Inception - Bite Hard (3/11)
Title: Bite Hard (part 3)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: ~4,000
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Dom Cobb, Yusuf, Ariadne, mentions of Mal
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, age difference/underage, dub-con
Summary: AU. Sixteen year old Arthur wakes up in another man's apartment.
Part Three
Arthur clutched around Eames's waist, face pushed between his shoulder blades, and while he was sitting there and listening to the rumble of the motorcycle's engine, he thought that he fit right into Eames's curve, like he was a missing puzzle piece that had found its other side. Eames was still warm beneath his hands, like he was a furnace wrapped in clothes.
The ride on the bus had been so long, and yet the drive back to his house seemed unbearably short. He had to unravel himself from Eames's back far too soon for his tastes and step off the bike into the cold, Eames-less air.
"Jesus Christ," Eames said, staring up at the massive house. "Your closet's probably bigger than my apartment."
Arthur chuckled, turning around with his hands in his pockets and leaned over, pressing his nose to Eames's. "Thanks for the ride," he said.
"You stay out of trouble now," Eames replied, smirking.
"Not fucking likely," Arthur said, seizing him by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him in for a long kiss. When he pulled away, Eames was dazed. "Do I still kiss like an amateur?"
"You're getting better all the time."
"I'll keep practicing."
Arthur had no issues sleeping the rest of the night.
"Morning, Yusuf," Eames greeted in the lobby of his apartment building, swinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder on his way to work.
"You're chipper this morning for someone who is about head off to a double shift," Yusuf mentioned, jogging a little to catch up with him from the stairs. "What's with that dopey smile?"
"This is how I always smile," Eames said.
"I hope for the sake of your future love affairs that that's not true," Yusuf replied flatly and paused as recollection came over him. "Did you sell a painting?"
"Nope, not yet, but I've started on one that I think will be brill."
"You… You saw that boy again, didn't you? Your muse," Yusuf decided, crossing his arms over his chest as he chased him to the parking lot.
"Of course not," Eames waved him off. "Can't I be in a good mood without there being a bloody reason once in a while?"
"No, no you can't."
"It was rhetorical question, Yusuf."
"What's with the sunshine and rainbows and butterflies, Eames? Really, what?"
"I think those things are all in your head, Yusuf. You should really go see a shrink." Eames slipped his helmet on and started the engine. "Have a good day a work, dear! See you when I get home! Hugs and kisses!"
"Oh, fuck off, Eames!" Yusuf shouted, but Eames was already zipping out of the parking lot, leaving Yusuf in the dust.
Eames laughed to himself, feeling the 'fuck off' even though he couldn't hear it. Nothing Yusuf could have said would spoil his mood. It was the first time he'd woken up with a smile on his face in… he honestly couldn't remember. He supposed it was because he woke up thinking of Arthur's mischievous little grin and it was contagious. After dropping him off at his house, Eames had gone home and slathered paint all over a canvas, messy and yet perfect to his feelings. Every splatter looked like Arthur's hands, long bony fingers reaching out to touch and touch and touch. Eames had added in more splatters to signify his own hands, touching and touching and touching Arthur's hands and by that time he realized he needed to go to sleep before he pulled an all-nighter.
Eames convinced himself that he wasn't giddy, just hysterical after only three hours of sleep.
Still, on any other day, he would be frowning harshly by the time he arrived at the steakhouse where he currently waited tables. Any other day, he hated the place with a white hot intensity, but his emotions were just too preoccupied.
"Morning, Eames," Ariadne, a fellow server, greeted when he stepped inside, making a beeline for the bathroom to change into the uniform he had shoved into his bag. "You seem self-satisfied. You get laid or something?"
"As a lady, you really shouldn't talk like that," Eames told her with a smirk. "You're what, seventeen now?"
"I'm nineteen, almost twenty," she replied flatly. "Why else would I be here on a Friday? Don't the sweet, impressionable seventeen year olds have school to go to?"
Eames shrugged. "How's that 'taking a year off to discover yourself' working for you?"
"It'd be better if I could afford to travel."
"Discovering yourself comes from the inside, Ari, not the outside," he said, the bathroom door shutting behind him. Ariadne had no need for modesty, a bohemian in her own right, and opened the door to shove her head inside the crack.
"You're waning philosophical, Eames. That's dangerous."
"I can think of more dangerous things than philosophy," Eames laughed, tugging his t-shirt over his head and throwing it over the sink. "Lying is dangerous, stealing, um… fighting, unless it's for a good reason… Flirting, that's dangerous." He pulled his black button-down over his shoulders. "Ah… let's see, what else is dangerous? Oh, I know, beautiful people. Beautiful people are dangerous."
"Don't you like to do all of those things?" she smirked. "Lying, stealing, fighting, flirting, beautiful people, yeah you do all of those things."
Eames tucked his buttoned shirt into his slacks. "I'm a regular rebel, aren't I?" He wet his hands and ran them through his hair, calming the mess it had become from the helmet. "I'm sure the tattoos and motorcycle gave that away. Oh, yes, driving fast is also dangerous."
Arthur's attention was still nonexistent at school, but he found himself doodling in his notebooks, smiling, no longer stiff-backed with agitation. He didn't grow frustrated from the sound of other students whispering or get caught up in the noise of the ticking clock. He floated from class to class like gravity had decided to leave him be for the day.
It didn't go unnoticed.
Arthur discovered this when he shut his locker door and found Cobb leaning there waiting, lips curled into a smirk.
"You're walking on sunshine," Cobb teased.
"Excuse me?" Arthur squeaked. He was relieved Mal wasn't with Cobb. He might have blurted it out right there if she had been.
"You've done a one-eighty from yesterday. What happened to you?"
"Nothing," Arthur said in exasperation, turning on his heel to escape Cobb. "Can I not be in a good mood once in a while? You're ruining it, by the way."
"Are you kidding me? I mean, come on, man, you've been walking around all day like you got your dick sucked, and you expect me to not question that?"
Arthur's cock twitched a little at the very clear memory of that, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from letting out a sound. "Jesus, Cobb, what does that even-"
Cobb made a face. Arthur squirmed under his gaze.
"Wait, are you serious? It was just an expression, but you actually-Did you really?"
"You're being ridiculous. I never even made such a dumb fucking claim. You know what assuming does to people, right?"
"Then what are you so chipper about? Don't make me go get Mal."
"Stop threatening me with that."
"I would if it stopped working. Seriously, what's up?" Cobb's amusement had faded again to a poorly hidden look of worry. "Is something going on?"
"No, nothing's going on. Would you just drop it already? I just happen to be in a good mood. Let it go, Cobb."
Cobb huffed but didn't push the matter further. He knew when to quit, and Arthur was grateful for that. Still, he didn't appreciate how Cobb's concerned face made him feel guilty.
Arthur slipped into the bathroom, Cobb at his heels and went to take a leak. The two of them stood separated by one urinal. "Hey, Cobb," Arthur said awkwardly.
"Yeah?"
"Um… have you ever actually, uh… you know… had your dick sucked?"
Cobb went red and stared at the wall, clearing his throat. "Okay, I get it, I embarrassed you. Fuck, I was just kidding."
"No really. Have you?" Arthur was a little embarrassed asking. He pulled his pants back up and went to wash his hands.
"I uh-well, um… No. I hear it fucking rocks though."
Arthur dried his hands, numb all over from the shock that he'd done something before Cobb, before Cobb. He passed by Cobb as Cobb headed to the sink, smacking his shoulder lightly and said nothing more than, "It totally is."
"Wait, what?" Cobb shouted after him, but Arthur had already left.
Wednesday couldn't come soon enough for Arthur. He spent his class time bouncing his leg, doodling, or on occasion actually paying attention because he needed to do anything other than fantasize. Fantasizing was reserved for time at home, since he was usually alone anyway, and he'd discovered his mind could be incredibly filthy if given the time and the right idea. He'd been told in the past that he had no imagination; apparently, he just hadn't been applying it properly.
Cobb still bugged him occasionally about what was up with him, but he wouldn't push it when Arthur told him to back off. He could tell it was driving him insane, but Arthur just wouldn't. He couldn't… even if he sort of wanted to. He wanted to talk about Eames. It made Wednesday not feel so fucking far away.
He fucked his hand intensely before bed every night so that he wouldn't soil his underwear, and he grunted and groaned and sweated. It was nothing compared to the real thing, but he did it anyway.
Finally, finally, Wednesday came.
Arthur spent most of the class staring at the clock, and unfortunately time had seemed to slow to a near stop. His skin was too hot, and he was having trouble focusing on anything other than getting away from the school, from his house, from the world for a little while.
The bell might have sounded like a chorus of a thousand angels.
"Hey, where are you going?" Cobb called after him as Arthur practically bolted out of the door.
"Library!" he shouted, not looking back. "I've got an essay to write! See you tomorrow! Tell Mal that we need to hang out soon!"
He didn't have time for Cobb. He was already half hard in his pants. He took a cab into the city, bouncing both of his legs, and when he was a block from Eames's, he paid the driver and climbed out. He took the stairs two at a time and rammed his fist on the door without a second of hesitation.
"Hello?" Eames said as he swung the door open, but he didn't have time to say anything else before Arthur was attacking him in a fierce kiss.
Eames shut the door with his back, kissing Arthur back with surprise, and Arthur wrapped his legs around Eames's waist, choking on desperate sounds. They didn't stop kissing until Eames had dumped Arthur onto the bed.
"Nice to see you too," Eames greeted through gasps for air.
"I missed you," Arthur said. It made his heart ache a little.
Eames smiled softly and pushed his hands into the mattress above Arthur's shoulders, hovering over him. "Oh, really?" he asked, pressing his lips to Arthur's cheekbone.
Arthur responded by whimpering and arching. Eames kissed down his cheekbone, down his chin, down his neck, down his chest after hiking up his shirt, licking and grazing his teeth just when Arthur didn't expect it, and it made his yelps jump a half-octave.
"You're already so close," Eames said, lifting his head from one of Arthur's nipples and brushing a sweat-slicked hair out of the boy's eyes. "You really did miss me."
Arthur tilted his head back, revealing more of his long, pale neck, and barely sounded out, "Eames."
"Oh, darling, don't worry, we'll get to it. I'm going to take my time though. I want to memorize every face you make."
Arthur laughed a little, but his voice was so hoarse it barely came out. Eames left him on the bed to undress while he grabbed lubricant and a condom out of the bedside table and then settled back in the bed in-between Arthur's legs.
He slicked up his fingers and pushed one inside to the first knuckle, and Arthur was as tight as ever. "Just relax," Eames said.
Arthur swallowed and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment.
Eames thrust his finger in and out, curling it ever so slightly, and soon he shoved a second one in, fucking him leisurely with his fingers so that by the time he added a third finger, every inch of Arthur's body was coated in a sheen of sweat. Just when he was sure Arthur was about to come right there, Eames pulled out completely.
Arthur looked at Eames in horror, eyes so black that Eames couldn't see the whites of them anymore.
"Don't want you to come so fast," Eames explained teasingly. "That's what teenagers do."
"F-fuck," Arthur stammered, voice straining, and watched while Eames rolled the condom on mockingly slow and slathered himself with a generous amount of lube. He leaned over Arthur and kissed him on the forehead, on the tip of his nose, on his mouth, just barely licking against Arthur's teeth before pulling away to hoist Arthur's legs up around his waist.
"Are you ready?" Eames asked, and all Arthur could do was nod, even though some of that tense feeling had faded a bit from the lack of contact. He was pretty sure that was Eames's intention, but it was hard for him to think at all through the haze.
Eames shoved himself inside, just a little, testing it. Arthur's breath hitched. Eames thrust in and out, going deeper each time, until he grazed against Arthur's prostate.
Arthur squeaked, cock leaking pre-come all over his stomach, and he was right there, so Eames pulled out completely.
"This is torture!" Arthur complained, his voice shrill and scratchy.
Eames laughed, combing Arthur's hair out of his face with his fingers. "It'll be worth it, love, I promise," Eames said, kissing him again before adding gruffly, "I'm going to make you rattle these windows."
Arthur just let out a large breath then, eyes rolling back into his head. Eames pushed back in.
Eames rocked back and forth against Arthur, slowly at first, building speed. Arthur was mumbling incoherently, his only audible words Please and Fuck and Eames. Arthur's heat was a bit intoxicating to Eames as well, and he was having trouble keeping his pace, but he maintained it with an iron will. He'd been so brutal to the boy before when it had just been a sudden, must have you thing, and he had the stains on the sheets to prove it. Maybe he felt a little guilty about hurting him.
Eames slammed against Arthur, feeling it building in his own extremities, and Arthur was gripping and pulling at the bed sheets for some kind of stability that he couldn't find. His hands seemed to change their minds and wrap around Eames's shoulders instead. He was bucking into every one of Eames's thrusts now, moans increasing in volume with each one, and Eames's iron will cracked and fell apart right then and there.
Arthur's nails dug into Eames's shoulders as he hit Arthur's prostate over and over again, and Eames could tell he was trying to hold on just because he was afraid Eames would pull out again. The heels of his feet were digging into Eames's back, and he was shouting now, begging and begging, and Eames could no longer deny him.
Arthur's cry echoed off of the walls of the apartment when he came, back arching, eyes squeezed shut, and Eames came only seconds after because of it.
Arthur collapsed on the bed, feeling boneless after Eames had pulled out, and his chest was heaving dramatically. "I don't think…" he finally managed to say breathlessly after a few minutes. "I don't think that much has ever come out before."
Eames ran his fingers along the mess on Arthur's stomach and trailed them up to Arthur's lips. Arthur took Eames's fingers into his mouth and sucked and licked them clean. "That's disgusting," he said, but he was smiling in content. "Fuck, I need a cigarette."
Eames fetched him one and even lit it for him, puffing on it before placing it between Arthur's lips. While he was behind the curtain in the bathroom, Arthur called out, finally finding his voice, "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"It's just something that comes with practice," Eames assured him, appearing with a wet wash cloth. He sat on the edge of the bed, slowly cleaning off Arthur's stomach and chest.
Arthur hummed serenely and watched smoke drift up to the ceiling for a moment. "What were you like when you were my age, Eames?"
"You make it sound like it was such a long time ago," Eames chuckled, "Oh, I don't know…"
"Tell me," Arthur urged, giggling when Eames's fingers traced across a particularly ticklish spot under his left pectoral.
"Ahm… well, I guess I wasn't much different than you. I was a scrawny little thing. I got teased a lot. Everyone thought I looked like a girl."
"What? That's insane. You're the manliest guy I know," Arthur laughed. Eames dropped the rag on the floor and curled his arm around Arthur's waist, nuzzling against his neck.
"I was a bit of a late bloomer, I guess. My voice was still pretty high pitched until I was nearly seventeen, and with these lips, I probably really did resemble a girl. I guess I'm overcompensating now."
Arthur dropped ashes into the tray on the bedside table before tilting his head downwards to let Eames kiss him.
"Pounding ass is how you overcompensate?" Arthur smirked against his lips.
"I guess so," Eames snorted.
By the time Arthur was on his third cigarette, Eames was sketching. The picture was of Arthur propped against the headboard, hair in disarray, long fingers curled around a cigarette. The late afternoon light spread out across Arthur's lithe limbs and the sheet just barely reached his hips. Eames was beaming at him as he penciled in the thin trail of visible pubic hair below his navel. "You are such a beautiful specimen," he marveled.
Arthur lowered the cigarette from his mouth, blowing smoke out the side. "You're out of your mind."
"Maybe," Eames agreed, "but it doesn't make it less true. You're an artist's dream, Arthur."
"Can I move? I need to take a whiz."
Eames turned the sketchbook around to show Arthur the finished rough, a smattering of pastel revealing the light. "Go ahead… I'm looking forward to painting this."
Arthur unfurled and clambered out of the bed, and Eames watched him like a hawk while he crossed the room, so he couldn't help but strut a little bit.
"It's a shame you have to wear those baggy trousers with your uniform, Arthur," Eames said, slouching in his chair. "You have such a lovely rear."
Arthur broke out into a cheek-hurting smile, dimpling his cheeks, and Eames had to get up and kiss both of them.
They ended up fucking against the wall, Arthur sighing into Eames's ear.
When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Arthur was sprawled out on the couch, and Eames was laying out the lines for his painting on canvas. Eames was dressed, but Arthur seemed to prefer walking around naked, and no one was more fine with that than Eames.
"I am starving," Arthur said suddenly. "Fuck, I didn't even eat lunch today."
"I can order some take-out," Eames offered.
"Awesome."
Eames put down his pencil and went to dig out his phone, dialing the Chinese place. He ordered, asking them to put it on his tab and have Yusuf bring it to him when he got off work and then found that Arthur had left the couch. The shower came on right on cue.
Eames nabbed up his sketchbook and followed after.
"You are obsessed," Arthur joked when Eames pulled back the shower door to watch. The light bouncing off of the blue tiles on the wall reflected onto Arthur's shoulders. Eames immediately set to work.
Arthur laughed at him, smoothing his hair back with water. He poured a handful of Eames's coconut shampoo and scrubbed it through, and Eames memorized it as best as he could while throwing down the rough sketch to finish later. He was almost out of paper, he noted.
"All that stuff's gonna get damaged from the heat, isn't it?" Arthur asked, tossing wet strands of hair out of his eyes. Eames set the sketchbook just outside of the curtain and stepped under the spray, forgetting that he was fully clothed and that his fingers were smudged with pastel.
"It hasn't even begun to get warm in here," Eames mouthed against Arthur's neck.
They were interrupted by a knocking on the door.
"Oh, bugger," Eames complained, leaving Arthur. Arthur stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, and peeked out from behind the wall.
"Really, Eames, Dan Gleebitz?" Yusuf asked flatly, holding up the bag of food. "Everyone up there knows it's you. Stop giving stupid names."
"If they were as annoyed by it as you are, they would have just written Eames on the order. I think you're the only one up there without a sense of humor. Hand over my dinner and vamoose."
"Suddenly, I'm not a welcome dinner guest? Some of that is mine, you know."
"I'm working."
"That never stopped you be-why are you all wet?"
"I just got out of the shower."
"In your clothes? Jesus, Eames, get some fucking sleep."
Arthur leaned out further to try to get a better view, but his foot slipped on a puddle Eames had left behind, and he ungracefully face-planted into the floor, knocking over a pile of art supplies.
Eames turned at the sound strictly out of impulse.
"See you," Eames said, snagging the food from Yusuf's hands and slamming the door on him. He put the chain on before Yusuf could force himself inside.
"TOSSER!" Yusuf shouted through the door. "Don't pretend that I don't know what you've been doing in there! If the shouting doesn't stop, I'm calling the cops!"
Why does Cobb look like Jack? Why does Arthur look like Tommy? What's wrong with me?
I've got so many ideas for this you guys. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW.
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: ~4,000
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Dom Cobb, Yusuf, Ariadne, mentions of Mal
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, age difference/underage, dub-con
Summary: AU. Sixteen year old Arthur wakes up in another man's apartment.
Part Three
Arthur clutched around Eames's waist, face pushed between his shoulder blades, and while he was sitting there and listening to the rumble of the motorcycle's engine, he thought that he fit right into Eames's curve, like he was a missing puzzle piece that had found its other side. Eames was still warm beneath his hands, like he was a furnace wrapped in clothes.
The ride on the bus had been so long, and yet the drive back to his house seemed unbearably short. He had to unravel himself from Eames's back far too soon for his tastes and step off the bike into the cold, Eames-less air.
"Jesus Christ," Eames said, staring up at the massive house. "Your closet's probably bigger than my apartment."
Arthur chuckled, turning around with his hands in his pockets and leaned over, pressing his nose to Eames's. "Thanks for the ride," he said.
"You stay out of trouble now," Eames replied, smirking.
"Not fucking likely," Arthur said, seizing him by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him in for a long kiss. When he pulled away, Eames was dazed. "Do I still kiss like an amateur?"
"You're getting better all the time."
"I'll keep practicing."
Arthur had no issues sleeping the rest of the night.
"Morning, Yusuf," Eames greeted in the lobby of his apartment building, swinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder on his way to work.
"You're chipper this morning for someone who is about head off to a double shift," Yusuf mentioned, jogging a little to catch up with him from the stairs. "What's with that dopey smile?"
"This is how I always smile," Eames said.
"I hope for the sake of your future love affairs that that's not true," Yusuf replied flatly and paused as recollection came over him. "Did you sell a painting?"
"Nope, not yet, but I've started on one that I think will be brill."
"You… You saw that boy again, didn't you? Your muse," Yusuf decided, crossing his arms over his chest as he chased him to the parking lot.
"Of course not," Eames waved him off. "Can't I be in a good mood without there being a bloody reason once in a while?"
"No, no you can't."
"It was rhetorical question, Yusuf."
"What's with the sunshine and rainbows and butterflies, Eames? Really, what?"
"I think those things are all in your head, Yusuf. You should really go see a shrink." Eames slipped his helmet on and started the engine. "Have a good day a work, dear! See you when I get home! Hugs and kisses!"
"Oh, fuck off, Eames!" Yusuf shouted, but Eames was already zipping out of the parking lot, leaving Yusuf in the dust.
Eames laughed to himself, feeling the 'fuck off' even though he couldn't hear it. Nothing Yusuf could have said would spoil his mood. It was the first time he'd woken up with a smile on his face in… he honestly couldn't remember. He supposed it was because he woke up thinking of Arthur's mischievous little grin and it was contagious. After dropping him off at his house, Eames had gone home and slathered paint all over a canvas, messy and yet perfect to his feelings. Every splatter looked like Arthur's hands, long bony fingers reaching out to touch and touch and touch. Eames had added in more splatters to signify his own hands, touching and touching and touching Arthur's hands and by that time he realized he needed to go to sleep before he pulled an all-nighter.
Eames convinced himself that he wasn't giddy, just hysterical after only three hours of sleep.
Still, on any other day, he would be frowning harshly by the time he arrived at the steakhouse where he currently waited tables. Any other day, he hated the place with a white hot intensity, but his emotions were just too preoccupied.
"Morning, Eames," Ariadne, a fellow server, greeted when he stepped inside, making a beeline for the bathroom to change into the uniform he had shoved into his bag. "You seem self-satisfied. You get laid or something?"
"As a lady, you really shouldn't talk like that," Eames told her with a smirk. "You're what, seventeen now?"
"I'm nineteen, almost twenty," she replied flatly. "Why else would I be here on a Friday? Don't the sweet, impressionable seventeen year olds have school to go to?"
Eames shrugged. "How's that 'taking a year off to discover yourself' working for you?"
"It'd be better if I could afford to travel."
"Discovering yourself comes from the inside, Ari, not the outside," he said, the bathroom door shutting behind him. Ariadne had no need for modesty, a bohemian in her own right, and opened the door to shove her head inside the crack.
"You're waning philosophical, Eames. That's dangerous."
"I can think of more dangerous things than philosophy," Eames laughed, tugging his t-shirt over his head and throwing it over the sink. "Lying is dangerous, stealing, um… fighting, unless it's for a good reason… Flirting, that's dangerous." He pulled his black button-down over his shoulders. "Ah… let's see, what else is dangerous? Oh, I know, beautiful people. Beautiful people are dangerous."
"Don't you like to do all of those things?" she smirked. "Lying, stealing, fighting, flirting, beautiful people, yeah you do all of those things."
Eames tucked his buttoned shirt into his slacks. "I'm a regular rebel, aren't I?" He wet his hands and ran them through his hair, calming the mess it had become from the helmet. "I'm sure the tattoos and motorcycle gave that away. Oh, yes, driving fast is also dangerous."
Arthur's attention was still nonexistent at school, but he found himself doodling in his notebooks, smiling, no longer stiff-backed with agitation. He didn't grow frustrated from the sound of other students whispering or get caught up in the noise of the ticking clock. He floated from class to class like gravity had decided to leave him be for the day.
It didn't go unnoticed.
Arthur discovered this when he shut his locker door and found Cobb leaning there waiting, lips curled into a smirk.
"You're walking on sunshine," Cobb teased.
"Excuse me?" Arthur squeaked. He was relieved Mal wasn't with Cobb. He might have blurted it out right there if she had been.
"You've done a one-eighty from yesterday. What happened to you?"
"Nothing," Arthur said in exasperation, turning on his heel to escape Cobb. "Can I not be in a good mood once in a while? You're ruining it, by the way."
"Are you kidding me? I mean, come on, man, you've been walking around all day like you got your dick sucked, and you expect me to not question that?"
Arthur's cock twitched a little at the very clear memory of that, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from letting out a sound. "Jesus, Cobb, what does that even-"
Cobb made a face. Arthur squirmed under his gaze.
"Wait, are you serious? It was just an expression, but you actually-Did you really?"
"You're being ridiculous. I never even made such a dumb fucking claim. You know what assuming does to people, right?"
"Then what are you so chipper about? Don't make me go get Mal."
"Stop threatening me with that."
"I would if it stopped working. Seriously, what's up?" Cobb's amusement had faded again to a poorly hidden look of worry. "Is something going on?"
"No, nothing's going on. Would you just drop it already? I just happen to be in a good mood. Let it go, Cobb."
Cobb huffed but didn't push the matter further. He knew when to quit, and Arthur was grateful for that. Still, he didn't appreciate how Cobb's concerned face made him feel guilty.
Arthur slipped into the bathroom, Cobb at his heels and went to take a leak. The two of them stood separated by one urinal. "Hey, Cobb," Arthur said awkwardly.
"Yeah?"
"Um… have you ever actually, uh… you know… had your dick sucked?"
Cobb went red and stared at the wall, clearing his throat. "Okay, I get it, I embarrassed you. Fuck, I was just kidding."
"No really. Have you?" Arthur was a little embarrassed asking. He pulled his pants back up and went to wash his hands.
"I uh-well, um… No. I hear it fucking rocks though."
Arthur dried his hands, numb all over from the shock that he'd done something before Cobb, before Cobb. He passed by Cobb as Cobb headed to the sink, smacking his shoulder lightly and said nothing more than, "It totally is."
"Wait, what?" Cobb shouted after him, but Arthur had already left.
Wednesday couldn't come soon enough for Arthur. He spent his class time bouncing his leg, doodling, or on occasion actually paying attention because he needed to do anything other than fantasize. Fantasizing was reserved for time at home, since he was usually alone anyway, and he'd discovered his mind could be incredibly filthy if given the time and the right idea. He'd been told in the past that he had no imagination; apparently, he just hadn't been applying it properly.
Cobb still bugged him occasionally about what was up with him, but he wouldn't push it when Arthur told him to back off. He could tell it was driving him insane, but Arthur just wouldn't. He couldn't… even if he sort of wanted to. He wanted to talk about Eames. It made Wednesday not feel so fucking far away.
He fucked his hand intensely before bed every night so that he wouldn't soil his underwear, and he grunted and groaned and sweated. It was nothing compared to the real thing, but he did it anyway.
Finally, finally, Wednesday came.
Arthur spent most of the class staring at the clock, and unfortunately time had seemed to slow to a near stop. His skin was too hot, and he was having trouble focusing on anything other than getting away from the school, from his house, from the world for a little while.
The bell might have sounded like a chorus of a thousand angels.
"Hey, where are you going?" Cobb called after him as Arthur practically bolted out of the door.
"Library!" he shouted, not looking back. "I've got an essay to write! See you tomorrow! Tell Mal that we need to hang out soon!"
He didn't have time for Cobb. He was already half hard in his pants. He took a cab into the city, bouncing both of his legs, and when he was a block from Eames's, he paid the driver and climbed out. He took the stairs two at a time and rammed his fist on the door without a second of hesitation.
"Hello?" Eames said as he swung the door open, but he didn't have time to say anything else before Arthur was attacking him in a fierce kiss.
Eames shut the door with his back, kissing Arthur back with surprise, and Arthur wrapped his legs around Eames's waist, choking on desperate sounds. They didn't stop kissing until Eames had dumped Arthur onto the bed.
"Nice to see you too," Eames greeted through gasps for air.
"I missed you," Arthur said. It made his heart ache a little.
Eames smiled softly and pushed his hands into the mattress above Arthur's shoulders, hovering over him. "Oh, really?" he asked, pressing his lips to Arthur's cheekbone.
Arthur responded by whimpering and arching. Eames kissed down his cheekbone, down his chin, down his neck, down his chest after hiking up his shirt, licking and grazing his teeth just when Arthur didn't expect it, and it made his yelps jump a half-octave.
"You're already so close," Eames said, lifting his head from one of Arthur's nipples and brushing a sweat-slicked hair out of the boy's eyes. "You really did miss me."
Arthur tilted his head back, revealing more of his long, pale neck, and barely sounded out, "Eames."
"Oh, darling, don't worry, we'll get to it. I'm going to take my time though. I want to memorize every face you make."
Arthur laughed a little, but his voice was so hoarse it barely came out. Eames left him on the bed to undress while he grabbed lubricant and a condom out of the bedside table and then settled back in the bed in-between Arthur's legs.
He slicked up his fingers and pushed one inside to the first knuckle, and Arthur was as tight as ever. "Just relax," Eames said.
Arthur swallowed and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment.
Eames thrust his finger in and out, curling it ever so slightly, and soon he shoved a second one in, fucking him leisurely with his fingers so that by the time he added a third finger, every inch of Arthur's body was coated in a sheen of sweat. Just when he was sure Arthur was about to come right there, Eames pulled out completely.
Arthur looked at Eames in horror, eyes so black that Eames couldn't see the whites of them anymore.
"Don't want you to come so fast," Eames explained teasingly. "That's what teenagers do."
"F-fuck," Arthur stammered, voice straining, and watched while Eames rolled the condom on mockingly slow and slathered himself with a generous amount of lube. He leaned over Arthur and kissed him on the forehead, on the tip of his nose, on his mouth, just barely licking against Arthur's teeth before pulling away to hoist Arthur's legs up around his waist.
"Are you ready?" Eames asked, and all Arthur could do was nod, even though some of that tense feeling had faded a bit from the lack of contact. He was pretty sure that was Eames's intention, but it was hard for him to think at all through the haze.
Eames shoved himself inside, just a little, testing it. Arthur's breath hitched. Eames thrust in and out, going deeper each time, until he grazed against Arthur's prostate.
Arthur squeaked, cock leaking pre-come all over his stomach, and he was right there, so Eames pulled out completely.
"This is torture!" Arthur complained, his voice shrill and scratchy.
Eames laughed, combing Arthur's hair out of his face with his fingers. "It'll be worth it, love, I promise," Eames said, kissing him again before adding gruffly, "I'm going to make you rattle these windows."
Arthur just let out a large breath then, eyes rolling back into his head. Eames pushed back in.
Eames rocked back and forth against Arthur, slowly at first, building speed. Arthur was mumbling incoherently, his only audible words Please and Fuck and Eames. Arthur's heat was a bit intoxicating to Eames as well, and he was having trouble keeping his pace, but he maintained it with an iron will. He'd been so brutal to the boy before when it had just been a sudden, must have you thing, and he had the stains on the sheets to prove it. Maybe he felt a little guilty about hurting him.
Eames slammed against Arthur, feeling it building in his own extremities, and Arthur was gripping and pulling at the bed sheets for some kind of stability that he couldn't find. His hands seemed to change their minds and wrap around Eames's shoulders instead. He was bucking into every one of Eames's thrusts now, moans increasing in volume with each one, and Eames's iron will cracked and fell apart right then and there.
Arthur's nails dug into Eames's shoulders as he hit Arthur's prostate over and over again, and Eames could tell he was trying to hold on just because he was afraid Eames would pull out again. The heels of his feet were digging into Eames's back, and he was shouting now, begging and begging, and Eames could no longer deny him.
Arthur's cry echoed off of the walls of the apartment when he came, back arching, eyes squeezed shut, and Eames came only seconds after because of it.
Arthur collapsed on the bed, feeling boneless after Eames had pulled out, and his chest was heaving dramatically. "I don't think…" he finally managed to say breathlessly after a few minutes. "I don't think that much has ever come out before."
Eames ran his fingers along the mess on Arthur's stomach and trailed them up to Arthur's lips. Arthur took Eames's fingers into his mouth and sucked and licked them clean. "That's disgusting," he said, but he was smiling in content. "Fuck, I need a cigarette."
Eames fetched him one and even lit it for him, puffing on it before placing it between Arthur's lips. While he was behind the curtain in the bathroom, Arthur called out, finally finding his voice, "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"It's just something that comes with practice," Eames assured him, appearing with a wet wash cloth. He sat on the edge of the bed, slowly cleaning off Arthur's stomach and chest.
Arthur hummed serenely and watched smoke drift up to the ceiling for a moment. "What were you like when you were my age, Eames?"
"You make it sound like it was such a long time ago," Eames chuckled, "Oh, I don't know…"
"Tell me," Arthur urged, giggling when Eames's fingers traced across a particularly ticklish spot under his left pectoral.
"Ahm… well, I guess I wasn't much different than you. I was a scrawny little thing. I got teased a lot. Everyone thought I looked like a girl."
"What? That's insane. You're the manliest guy I know," Arthur laughed. Eames dropped the rag on the floor and curled his arm around Arthur's waist, nuzzling against his neck.
"I was a bit of a late bloomer, I guess. My voice was still pretty high pitched until I was nearly seventeen, and with these lips, I probably really did resemble a girl. I guess I'm overcompensating now."
Arthur dropped ashes into the tray on the bedside table before tilting his head downwards to let Eames kiss him.
"Pounding ass is how you overcompensate?" Arthur smirked against his lips.
"I guess so," Eames snorted.
By the time Arthur was on his third cigarette, Eames was sketching. The picture was of Arthur propped against the headboard, hair in disarray, long fingers curled around a cigarette. The late afternoon light spread out across Arthur's lithe limbs and the sheet just barely reached his hips. Eames was beaming at him as he penciled in the thin trail of visible pubic hair below his navel. "You are such a beautiful specimen," he marveled.
Arthur lowered the cigarette from his mouth, blowing smoke out the side. "You're out of your mind."
"Maybe," Eames agreed, "but it doesn't make it less true. You're an artist's dream, Arthur."
"Can I move? I need to take a whiz."
Eames turned the sketchbook around to show Arthur the finished rough, a smattering of pastel revealing the light. "Go ahead… I'm looking forward to painting this."
Arthur unfurled and clambered out of the bed, and Eames watched him like a hawk while he crossed the room, so he couldn't help but strut a little bit.
"It's a shame you have to wear those baggy trousers with your uniform, Arthur," Eames said, slouching in his chair. "You have such a lovely rear."
Arthur broke out into a cheek-hurting smile, dimpling his cheeks, and Eames had to get up and kiss both of them.
They ended up fucking against the wall, Arthur sighing into Eames's ear.
When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Arthur was sprawled out on the couch, and Eames was laying out the lines for his painting on canvas. Eames was dressed, but Arthur seemed to prefer walking around naked, and no one was more fine with that than Eames.
"I am starving," Arthur said suddenly. "Fuck, I didn't even eat lunch today."
"I can order some take-out," Eames offered.
"Awesome."
Eames put down his pencil and went to dig out his phone, dialing the Chinese place. He ordered, asking them to put it on his tab and have Yusuf bring it to him when he got off work and then found that Arthur had left the couch. The shower came on right on cue.
Eames nabbed up his sketchbook and followed after.
"You are obsessed," Arthur joked when Eames pulled back the shower door to watch. The light bouncing off of the blue tiles on the wall reflected onto Arthur's shoulders. Eames immediately set to work.
Arthur laughed at him, smoothing his hair back with water. He poured a handful of Eames's coconut shampoo and scrubbed it through, and Eames memorized it as best as he could while throwing down the rough sketch to finish later. He was almost out of paper, he noted.
"All that stuff's gonna get damaged from the heat, isn't it?" Arthur asked, tossing wet strands of hair out of his eyes. Eames set the sketchbook just outside of the curtain and stepped under the spray, forgetting that he was fully clothed and that his fingers were smudged with pastel.
"It hasn't even begun to get warm in here," Eames mouthed against Arthur's neck.
They were interrupted by a knocking on the door.
"Oh, bugger," Eames complained, leaving Arthur. Arthur stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, and peeked out from behind the wall.
"Really, Eames, Dan Gleebitz?" Yusuf asked flatly, holding up the bag of food. "Everyone up there knows it's you. Stop giving stupid names."
"If they were as annoyed by it as you are, they would have just written Eames on the order. I think you're the only one up there without a sense of humor. Hand over my dinner and vamoose."
"Suddenly, I'm not a welcome dinner guest? Some of that is mine, you know."
"I'm working."
"That never stopped you be-why are you all wet?"
"I just got out of the shower."
"In your clothes? Jesus, Eames, get some fucking sleep."
Arthur leaned out further to try to get a better view, but his foot slipped on a puddle Eames had left behind, and he ungracefully face-planted into the floor, knocking over a pile of art supplies.
Eames turned at the sound strictly out of impulse.
"See you," Eames said, snagging the food from Yusuf's hands and slamming the door on him. He put the chain on before Yusuf could force himself inside.
"TOSSER!" Yusuf shouted through the door. "Don't pretend that I don't know what you've been doing in there! If the shouting doesn't stop, I'm calling the cops!"
Why does Cobb look like Jack? Why does Arthur look like Tommy? What's wrong with me?
I've got so many ideas for this you guys. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW.