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baby come back
[It's been some time since Eames has made the trip to Arthur's place, he's forgotten how long the walk from the station is. He kind of regrets not getting a cab or at least waiting for a bus because it is pissing it down with rain and Eames doesn't typically feel the cold that much, but he's soaked to the bone and his clothes are sticking to him and the wind cuts through him something awful. His hair is plastered to his forehead and he's pretty sure these shoes are ruined, to the point he doesn't even think about walking through puddles because it's not like his feet can get any more cold and wet at this point.]
[It's awful. He feels awful. He's cold and soaked and he can't feel his fingers and he just feels so guilty that it's almost scary. It's not like Eames has never been rude or said something uncalled for, but sometimes Eames is cruel and he's never been like that toward Arthur before. At first because he never cared enough, and then because he cared too much, and it's easy to forget how fucking easy it is for him. How he can target what upsets someone so easily and just twist it like a knife, make it into a weapon because he's angry and someone else is a convenient target to take it out on.]
[The worst part, maybe, is that Arthur was trying to help. He was just trying to be helpful and there's a million ways Eames could've told him he couldn't without being an asshole about it, but instead he pushed and he pushed and Arthur left and god he hates it. He's so fucking mad at himself. Spent days alone in the house waiting like it was just gonna blow over and Arthur would just come home as if it was some dumb little spat he needed an hour to cool off from.]
[Arthur's not gone forever, he's relatively sure. At some point he'd come home and be the bigger man about it, but wouldn't that just be another insult on top of everything? To make Arthur be the one to make the peace when Eames is the one who fucked things up to begin with? So here he is, sodden and freezing and miserable, knocking on Arthur's door like he basically never did before.]
[It's awful. He feels awful. He's cold and soaked and he can't feel his fingers and he just feels so guilty that it's almost scary. It's not like Eames has never been rude or said something uncalled for, but sometimes Eames is cruel and he's never been like that toward Arthur before. At first because he never cared enough, and then because he cared too much, and it's easy to forget how fucking easy it is for him. How he can target what upsets someone so easily and just twist it like a knife, make it into a weapon because he's angry and someone else is a convenient target to take it out on.]
[The worst part, maybe, is that Arthur was trying to help. He was just trying to be helpful and there's a million ways Eames could've told him he couldn't without being an asshole about it, but instead he pushed and he pushed and Arthur left and god he hates it. He's so fucking mad at himself. Spent days alone in the house waiting like it was just gonna blow over and Arthur would just come home as if it was some dumb little spat he needed an hour to cool off from.]
[Arthur's not gone forever, he's relatively sure. At some point he'd come home and be the bigger man about it, but wouldn't that just be another insult on top of everything? To make Arthur be the one to make the peace when Eames is the one who fucked things up to begin with? So here he is, sodden and freezing and miserable, knocking on Arthur's door like he basically never did before.]

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[He leans down to nose at Arthur's face, rolling his hips down with a little purpose.]
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[Arthur's hands slide down to Eames' hips and he digs his fingers in again.]
It just needs to be hard and fast.
[He's sure that's a given but it doesn't hurt to say.]
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I can do that.
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Fuck, I missed this.
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Hard to believe it's only been a few days.
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[He's not really thinking 100% straight right now, what with he hand on his dick and all. He turns to look at his nightstand, where all the supplies are, but he doesn't want to take his hands off of Eames to get any of it.]
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You know what else feels long?
[hint: it's Arthur's penis.]
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You have any lube here?
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[He gestures vaguely toward said drawer, relaxing against the bed with a sigh.]
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You need to get those trousers off.
[Eames says it absently as he clambers off the bed and pushes the sweatpants down his hips and kicks them off, going for the drawer next.]
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God, you're gorgeous.
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[His voice comes out just above a murmur as he cranes his neck up a little bit, like he's magnetically drawn to Eames.]
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You're going to feel so good.
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[Well a liberal helping of lube will help, right. Eames sits up straight and reaches for the bottle to pour some straight on and takes a moment to reacquaint Arthur's dick with his hand before he shifts forward to line everything up and slowly sits back onto him.]
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