i've got this feeling i can't shake

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[This gathering isn't anything special, especially not by the "standards" Eames has been discovering over these last few years, but it is one of those things where the Lord of Autumn should make an appearance. A lot of fae and various other types celebrating some minor thing that Eames can't even remember. The drinks are good though, and there is the odd familiar face he actually enjoys the company of.]

[It's all just... Fine. Except for one thing, a fae who is absolutely stunning, unabashedly inhuman, somebody Eames would certainly love to take home were it a different time. But she's not interested in him by the looks of it anyway. During the latter half of the evening, he catches glimpses of her with Arthur, and he could brush off the flirting if it weren't for the way he could see it being reciprocated.]

[It becomes steadily harder to ignore, glances become hard stares with a clenched jaw for lingering moments, barely paying attention to whatever conversation he's found himself in. Entirely more interested in this display he's witnessing.]

Comments

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[Arthur's eyes dart over to the lube and then back up to Eames. He's hard too, eager for Eames to touch him, but hesitant to ask directly. His whole body feels pinned down by the hand on his jaw.]

Take me then.

[It comes out in a mixture of desperation and challenge.]

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[The moment it takes him to move is pure surprise, like he never expected that from Arthur, but he's more than happy to oblige. Eames sits up, firstly to get those pants off Arthur as fast as possible, and then he's getting that lube on his fingers so he can drop his hand between Arthur's legs and rub circles over his entrance.]

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[Arthur stretches out, spreading his legs to make room for Eames' hand. He moans at the feeling of Eames' fingers and his dick twitches in anticipation.]

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God, just look at you.

[He looks at his hand as he presses his middle two fingers into Arthur and drags his gaze up Arthur's body to his face, watching for his reactions when Eames starts pumping.]

The way you open up for me, it's perfect.

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[Eames' fingers pressing into him earns a groan, followed by another, even more desperate as they start moving.]

I— I can't—

[He cuts himself off with a groan, surprisingly overwhelmed by the stretch and friction.]

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[He's pretty pleased with that response, free hand falling to his own crotch just to add a little pressure and relieve some tension. He's not going to spend long on this, but he wants to get some more of those sounds out of Arthur first.]

It's almost painful to not be inside you right now.

[He licks his lips, watching for the way Arthur reacts when he curls his fingers and presses hard.]

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[Arthur lets out a loud moan, stuttering out Eames' name as he arches his back. His hand finds Eames' thigh and he digs his fingers in. He takes a couple quick breaths and forces out the words he was trying to get out before.]

I can't fucking describe what you do to me.

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If it's anything like what you do to me-- [He curls his fingers again, harder this time.] I can sympathise.

[He pulls his fingers out and moves to kneel between Arthur's legs. Groaning first in relief when he finally undoes his pants and pulls his dick out, and then softer, indulging himself a little when he takes himself in his hand to get lubed up and ready.]

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[Arthur arches his back even more and lets out a surprised moan when Eames curls his fingers, and then he takes the much needed reprieve to catch his breath. He pushes himself up on an elbow so he can watch what Eames is doing, a soft reverence in his eyes at the sight of Eames' dick.]

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[If Arthur thought all this had cooled Eames off any, he's about to be very mistaken. Eames doesn't really offer much warning when he grips Arthur's hips and pulls him where he wants him, hips lifted into his lap and legs spread over his thighs. Still holding Arthur's hip with one hand, he uses the other to guide himself into Arthur with a deep groan.]

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[Arthur grunts when he's pulled into Eames' lap, toes curling as Eames sinks into him. It's not like he's particularly tight, but Eames didn't exactly warm him up, so there's a bit of a stretch. Eames' hand on his hip feels good and firm and exactly what he wanted, so he lets out a long, loud groan as he's filled up.]

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[Eames takes his time here, rolling his hips into Arthur slow and shallow, fully absorbing the way Arthur feels around him. It's perfect-- Arthur is perfect. Eames breathes a curse, fingers digging in where he's holding Arthur's hip, and looks at his face to check how he's doing.]

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[Eames' fingers hurt where they dig in, but it's just part of the bigger picture of Eames taking him like he asked and Arthur wouldn't want it any other way. He's flushed and moaning when Eames looks, eyes trained on the movment of Eames' hips, getting used to the feeling and almost ready for it to get harder.]

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[Eames leans forward, putting a hand down on the bed so he can lean over Arthur and nose at the side of his face.]

You feel so fucking good.

[His voice is low and rough, lips close to Arthur's ear when he speaks.]

Sometimes I feel like your body must have been made just for me.

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[Arthur's body shudders at that, a surprising wave of pleasure spreading all the way to the tips of his fingers that makes him moan like he's offended at how good it is. He can't reply with much other than some curses and Eames' name, which he says with an increasingly demanding tone like he'd ask for more if he had the words, wrapping his arms around him just to hold on to something.]

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[Eames starts to work up to something harder, murmuring encouragement and compliments between groans. He's just looking for the right combination of speed and force, thinking about how good it's going to be when he holds Arthur down and fucks him good and hard.]

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[Arthur utters encouraging words on the edges of gasps, half-sentences to tell Eames how good it feels when he gets harder and faster. He can't do much to contribute with his hips lifted off the bed like this, but he does draw his knees up further to his chest to help Eames get deeper, biting down on a shout and a loud groan when Eames hits him exactly the right way.]

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[It sounds like he's got Arthur how he wants him, almost anyway. He reaches for one of Arthur's wrists, careful but still forceful about it as he takes it firmly and holds it down by his head, slowing for just a moment so he can adjust his weight to do the same with the other, grip tight the way he knows Arthur likes.]

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[It all happens rather quick from Arthur's perspective. He realizes he's being pinned down as Eames' grip tightens around his first wrist, and by then he's already holding the other one as well. His breath catches and he looks over at one arm, at Eames' fist clenched around him, at his own fist that could never hope to escape no matter how much pulling and twisting he tried. He could say no of course. He has complete faith in Eames to stop and get off of him if he did, but dear god it's the absolute opposite that he really wants.]

[He looks at Eames, eyebrows drawn together into an offended expression, because he wasn't quite ready to turn into a whimpering, pleading mess just yet, and this is a surefire way to get him there really fucking quick.]

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[Eames smirks back at him, fully aware of the effect this'll have, and noses at his face.]

You're gorgeous.

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[He can't nail down precisely what it is about this that makes his voice waver, but it's unmistakable when he speaks. Between that and the soft panting that he can't help, any smart edge his reply might have under different circumstances is completely gone.]

I'm glad you think so.

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I know so.

[Eames hitches his hips a little harder, like a full stop on his statement.]

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[Arthur's body jerks with the force of Eames' hips, a whimper escaping from his throat that is quickly followed by an embarrassed whine as he turns his head into the pillow.]

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[Eames settles into a pace that's hard, but not fast, fucking Arthur with the pure intent to get more noise out of Arthur, murmuring in his ear how he's perfect and beautiful and his.]

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[Arthur's whimpers slip out with distressing regularity, still embarrassed by how easy it was for Eames to get him here despite knowing this is where they were headed since the beginning. He finds himself agreeing with Eames, wordless moans and 'yes'es when Eames tells him that he's his. He feels like it right now, like he's completely subject to Eames' whims—and it feels good. It doesn't take him long at all to get a bit louder and more urgent, stringing together a sentence that's part warning, part affirmation of how amazing Eames feels right now.]

I can come like this.