For Now.

Sep. 18th, 2011 09:58 pm
larnbean: (A/E)
[personal profile] larnbean
For Now
Arthur/Eames | NC-17 | ~1100 words
A big thank you to [livejournal.com profile] hungerpunch for being the best beta ever, and for pushing me to post! ilu, bb.



Arthur likes to jerk off in front of Eames' projection. He likes doing ridiculously sexy things in front of him, whenever he has the chance because hey it’s not like he’s hurting anyone (except himself) and Eames will never find out.

Sometimes Arthur gets on his elbows and knees, presenting Eames with a delicious view of his fingers teasing along the rim of his quivering hole. Sometimes he sits at the edge of his bed, hand jerking tight around his cock, pinching his nipples while looking into Eames' grey-green eyes, but Eames never touches Arthur. Arthur’s subconscious never allows it, nor does it allow Eames to speak, ever. He’d tried it once and even though he’d never felt Eames’ hands on his body in the real world, the texture was all wrong; and even though he’d never heard Eames’ voice rough with lust, the tone was too odd. The only thing Arthur thinks he got right was Eames’ hungry glare, and that’s enough.

Arthur craves Eames' eyes on him at all times, it's exhilarating; makes him that much harder when he’s back in the real world working side by side with Eames. This shell of Eames is enough to keep Arthur satisfied. For now.

Arthur usually doesn’t allow himself this type of liberty while working a job, but the job is simple enough and he has a few minutes to spare down under, so why not take advantage? Right?

When Arthur finally wakes he concentrates on removing the needle from his arm, his pants tented and hiding nothing from Eames' eyes. Arthur smiles almost innocently, giving Eames a gorgeous glimpse of soft lips and a set of dimples no man can resist.

Arthur can’t help but send heated glances to Eames for the remainder of the day, and once he’s alone in the privacy of his own hotel room, only then does he allow himself to fantasize about the feeling of Eames’ large hands running across his abdomen, and the deep timbre of Eames’ voice when he’s aroused.

##

Arthur goes under the next day to make sure everything is in place for their job next week. He has about 12 minutes left when he sees Eames’ projection coming towards him. He makes eye contact with him, turning away and leading him towards a grove of trees, lush and green.

Arthur leans back against a tree, running his hand down the front of his trousers. He meets Eames’ eyes--they’re greener than he’s ever seen them. Eames leans forward, bracketing Arthur against the tree, the muscles in his thick arms twitching. Arthur’s never let Eames come this close to him before; his body is like a furnace and Arthur can feel the heat coming off of him in waves. A bead of sweat trickles down his neck.

“Remember no touching, Mr. Eames, you should know better,” Arthur grinds out, reminding himself that this isn’t the real Eames, this is just his projection. If Eames touches him now it won’t be authentic; Arthur has no idea how Eames’ hands feel against his skin, and he never will.

Arthur tugs his pants down to his thighs and palms his erection through his briefs, whining as Eames’ breaths quicken against his lips. Eames’ eyes are practically burning him at this point. Arthur nearly rips his briefs off to get his hand around his dick.

“A-ahh,” he stutters out as he strokes his dick a few times, thumbing the head and spreading pearls of wetness up and down. Eames’ eyes darken, and Arthur’s never seen this look on Eames’ face before, but Arthur is so hard and he’s never wanted to come so hard in his life.

Eames licks his lips, closing in on him; Arthur can almost feel Eames’ body brushing up against him. “Fuck,” Arthur whimpers.

Arthur,” Eames growls, and fuck, Eames’ voice is that much deeper, but it’s too late for Arthur to even reprimand his projection for speaking out of turn because Arthur’s spilling hot ropes of come all over his hand and Eames’ shirt. Before Arthur can say one word to his disobedient projection he wakes up.

Arthur immediately glances towards Eames’ workspace but does not find him hulking near his desk, because Eames is right there, next to him, removing the cannula from his arm, unable to meet Arthur’s eyes. Eames strides towards the door, casually muttering something about having a smoke, but the trembling in Eames’ hands is anything but casual when he grabs his cigarettes off his work table. Arthur tries to remove his cannula calmly, willing his body to stop shaking.

His legs quiver as he pushes himself to get up, following Eames outside, but not before rolling his die a few times on the desk. Yep, definitely reality.

The moment Arthur steps outside, he finds himself pressed up against the warehouse door, Eames’ massive chest immobilizing him, Eames’ thigh between his legs.

“Eames, you had no right-“Arthur begins, only to be interrupted by Eames’ mouth, Eames’ perfect mouth, brushing against his.

“What?” Eames rumbles, and fuck, his voice--Eames’ voice sounds as wrecked as Arthur feels. Eames kneads his thigh against Arthur’s groin asking, “You thought I wouldn’t want this?” Arthur grabs at Eames’ shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but Eames won’t budge. He pulls back and looks at Arthur expectantly, waiting for him to answer Eames’ question.

Arthur nods, turning his face away in deep humiliation. Eames is all over him then, running his hands over any inch of Arthur’s body that he can reach, licking into Arthur’s mouth fiercely. Eames backs off quickly, though, and Arthur is unable to keep his eyes away from Eames’ mouth, shining and swollen.

“Arthur, darling, how could you think I didn’t want this?” Eames rasps softly, shucking Arthur’s shirt up to his armpits and pinching at his nipples. Arthur’s hips undulate against Eames’ thigh, his head tipping back, exposing his neck to Eames. Eames begins biting at Arthur’s neck possessively, running his tongue along the spot right behind Arthur’s ear and causing him to cry out. He’s riding Eames’ thigh shamelessly; he’s so close, so fucking close.

Eames grabs at Arthur’s chin, holding it steady, running his fingers over Arthur’s mouth reverently, and looking right into his eyes. “You’re mine now, are we clear?” Eames’ voice is brutal. “I won’t share you, even with your projection of me.”

Arthur’s orgasm is knocked out of him in that moment, while he mouths at Eames fingers subconsciously.

Once Arthur stops shivering, he allows himself a real smile, meeting Eames’ sharp stare. He removes one of his hands from Eames’ shoulders, running it down Eames’ abdomen to the bulge tenting his trousers. “I think I can deal with that, Mr. Eames,” Arthur dimples sweetly, pulling Eames’ mouth to his and pressing their matching smiles together. He licks into Eames’ mouth, his hand rubbing against Eames’ dick, enjoying the texture of Eames’ tongue, the rough callouses of Eames’ hands, and the deep resonance of Eames’ moans.

Yes, Arthur has a feeling he won’t be seeing Eames’ projection ever again.

Date: 2011-09-20 12:33 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kansouame.livejournal.com
Nice!!!! *fans self*

When I cool off, I am going to read it again! ^_^

Date: 2011-09-20 10:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_la_belle_fille/
[fans you] I'm glad you liked it! I hope you like it the second time around too! :]

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