Some say ya troubled boy Eames/Arthur
Jun. 5th, 2011 06:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snoozing_kittenTitle: The virtuous walk among us
Pairing: Eames/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Rimming, mentions of violence
Summary: In which Arthur makes a horrible prison bitch.
Notes: Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bubbly for the beta, you are an angel.
--In my blood I felt bubbles burst
There was a flash of fist, an eyebrow burst--
His stomach was in knots as they drove him to the prison, the back of the van was bland and bumpy; this was the part in the movies where the daring rescue happened. He wouldn’t admit it (he admitted to nothing, but the evidence against him was compelling), but he was terrified. He’d seen places like this in movies when he was a kid, dirty and filled with testosterone with nowhere to go. And in the back of his mind even when he’d been stealing, he had planned for being caught, but he was young and male, and in a certain part where all his considerable rationality couldn’t touch, he had thought himself invincible.
Life in prison wasn’t easy when you had a face like Arthur’s. He’d gotten sloppy once, just once, and Interpol was there to pick apart his mess. His accounts frozen, almost everything locked up tight and him behind bars. Prison was probably the worst place for him; Arthur was slim, long and lithe with a baby face that stopped aging when he was in his teens.
Theft wasn’t a violent crime, well it could be, but Arthur didn’t like to go there. The sheet levels of theft he had been pulling pushed him into maximum security, and a crackdown on crime meant that he was given a harsh sentence.
The rest was a blur. Arthur was processed, swapped out one jumpsuit for another. A local prison to a federal one, he could only assume the suit he had on when he was arrested had followed him and that they would eventually give it back.
There was a very, very large part of him that was freaking right the fuck out; he never actually thought they would catch him. Never. He was the best at what he did. They could only pin a fraction of it on him in total. But was enough, more than enough, oh god, maybe even too much. The corridor was lined with fences, went through the middle of the mess hall. He could feel eyes on him, all watching him, probing for weakness. Arthur held his head high, and ignored the various cat calls. He wasn’t about to slip up twice. He could pull himself together, he was Arthur and he fought dirty when he needed too. A place like this could rip you to pieces if you didn’t hit first.
The guards had all told him just what was in store for a sweet piece of candy like him. If his hadn’t been a three year term he would have told them with his elbow just what kind of pop rocks he was. But if he was quiet enough he could get out and vanish again, get back to his life. Like that was actually going to happen. Arthur figured if he broke the first man who tried to grab him, then there would be a precedent and maybe that would hold them off. He doubted it, but it was a good enough place to start.
Arthur was lead to a claustrophobic little cell that faced a window out on the yards; empty right now. Barren on the inside, aside from some paperbacks that lined the small shelf, the bunk-bed was pushed up against one cinderblock wall, and a faintly rusted toilet and sink combo-- it was lacking the Martha Stewart touch. “Welcome home.” The door slammed shut behind him leaving him alone with his thoughts on the meaning of freedom, and the shadows under the bed.
Arthur looked around, trying to keep the rising panic in check. He was locked in a box, a box where he couldn’t take a piss without supervision. A horn went off somewhere and Arthur moved, shifting to lean back against the far wall (giving him barely an extra foot of distance, but it went a lot further in soothing his nerves), watching the people walk past the partially barred door. The people who noticed him turned and stared, and Arthur stared them all down coolly. There was only one shot to make a first impression, and if he didn’t do it right, then his life wouldn’t get any easier.
Only the man who stopped at his door was simultaneously exactly what he expected and nothing like he could have ever imagined. “What have we here?” He smiled. “You look a little lost kitten.”
Arthur looked down his nose at him, leaning hard against the wall. This guy was built like a fucking tank, all broad shoulders and thick arms. He filled out the jumpsuit from the one shoulder to another like it was struggling to hold him. Like every prison horror story, but a little off. He was pretty, way too pretty in the face to be a run of the mill thug.
“Say that again,” Arthur taunted, his voice cold and sharp. He was used to dealing with criminals, though usually they were well dressed, all wolves in sheep’s clothing. This man was all wolf and unafraid of it.
“Oh?” His voice was smooth, lilting, accented. “I was just commenting that you look a little out of place.” He paused. “Precious.”
Arthur arched an eyebrow, trying not to let his irritation show. Until he could subdue the tank, his life was going to be really difficult. Pick and choose your battles; don’t telegraph your next move, verbal sparring wasn’t all that different.
“Well, I wouldn’t mention it again if I was you.”
“Ooh, kitten claws.” He grinned and Arthur frowned, letting the silence drag between them. There was nothing but them and the walls. Them and the walls, and a sentence that seemed to stretch into the foreseeable forever.
“I’ll tell you this once.” Arthur pushed himself off the wall, taking measured steps towards his new cell-mate. “Just don’t fuck with me.” He enunciated each word carefully.
“Loud and clear darling. I’ll try not to ruffle your hair too much.”
“We understand each other then.”
Arthur took the top bunk and wondered how long this would last. His cell-mate looked like your average two-bit criminal, even sounded a bit like one, but there was something in his face, the way he had sized Arthur up, that seemed out of place. There wasn’t anything he could do about that right now, just stay, plan. Wait. Three years, 1,096 days including February 29th.
By the end of the week, ‘kitten’ was the nicest thing he’d been called. Arthur had also fractured three fingers, tore one ligament and almost broke a wrist. None of them his own. He only had a few bruises to show for it. At least they had backed off; he wasn’t a twink to be fucked with. Years of Judo training being put to the test. If this was going to be the next three years he might just need to look into breaking out of here. All it took was one wrong step and he’d be seeing more dick then a locker room.
“Nice moves,” Eames grinned, putting down his plastic tray next to Arthur’s. The last man who did that had his face slammed into the table, and a set of bruised ribs when he kindly left the seat and Arthur alone.
Eames was a bit of an enigma; his interest wasn’t obviously sexual, well it was, because everything in here was repressed hunger. Money, cigarettes, food, sex, everyone only wanted what they couldn’t have anymore. Only Eames never seem inclined to act on it, he spent his yard time lifting weights or playing poker, he just baited Arthur when they were alone and then went to sleep. Arthur had taken down quite a few men who were bigger than himself, but he had serious doubts about his odds if Eames actually ever wanted something from him. Oh, he wouldn’t go down easy, (he never did) but he wondered which one of them would have more bruises at the end.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur said simply, cutting into his breakfast of deep-fried bacon and powdered eggs. He actually caught himself day dreaming about steak and garlic potatoes earlier. Even a good manicotti. He might actually be willing to blow someone for a nice manicotti after the first few weeks.
“James Tee will probably leave you alone for a bit.”
“Until the bones heal at least,” Arthur answered, and when he looked up Eames was grinning at him, wide and friendly. It made Arthur nervous. Eames played by his own rules, rules Arthur couldn’t figure out and couldn’t account for.
“Kitten is really a wild-cat.” Arthur’s grip tightened on his fork, something Eames seemed to notice, but didn’t care, if the way his eyes flicked to his hands and the edges of his mouth twitched. “I really was just waiting for you to get in over your head and come running back to me.”
“Try me.” Arthur took another bite.
“I’d really rather not. I don’t want to be the one to explain that to the guards. We’d burn the place down.”
Arthur couldn’t help but smile a little at that. They would. Burn it to the ground.
--
Eames’ mouth was hot against his, tasting like the harsh mint of the shitty toothpaste- all bite, frost and menthol. He couldn’t get enough (he used the same toothpaste but that wasn’t it at all). Hands on Eames’ chest, the rough material of his jump suit scraping across his palms, too much starch and nothing like the silky cotton or polyester Arthur used to wrap himself in, before, on the outside. Conversely, Eames’ mouth was hot, and so silky, everything and all at once, and Arthur luxuriated in the feel, pressing Eames against the rough wall and devouring him.
Eames’ hands, rested low on his hips, fingers spanning across the bones and holding him tight.
Arthur had a black eye, and Eames’ jaw was bruising even as they kissed. The guards might intervene this time (but that was later, unimportant), they had left the others in a pretty bad state, but no one touched Arthur. Not if they wanted to keep breathing. He would destroy them all if he needed to, and it looked like Eames would help.
“You know darling, if you let me brand you,” Eames mumbled against his mouth, and Arthur bit him, feeling the soft give of his bottom lip between his teeth, running the tips of his fingers along the blooming bruise on Eames’ jaw. “This wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Not happening.” Arthur tipped his head to lick at the hot bruised skin and Eames hissed, digging into the flesh of his ass and hauling him closer. Could they be any more prison cliché?
“No?” Eames asked with a tiny amused smile, Arthur kissed him hard to shut him up. His knuckles hurt where he had punched someone in the ribs; he’d been solid, not quite as solid as Eames, but enough to be like punching a wall in the ribs. He felt the flex in muscle moments before Eames’ hands dug into his ass and he was being lifted, clinging to Eames’ neck. He would be lying if he said that didn’t turn him on at least a little. It was intoxicating, the feel of strength and power under his hands, respect and something hotter. It wasn’t just the sheer size of Eames, it was everything he could do with it.
He couldn’t help himself; he’d more or less jumped Eames as soon as they got back to their cell. Couldn’t sit on his fingers any longer and pretend he wasn’t itching to touch. And it wasn’t like Eames wasn’t willing, pushing his tongue into Arthur’s mouth and making soft hungry sounds against his lips as they kissed.
“If I had known all it would take to get you, I would have fucked someone up a long time ago,” Arthur gasped against his lips, wrapping his legs around Eames’ middle and they were stumbling back, Arthur’s shoulders ran painfully into the metal frame of the bunk bed. A few more bruises to add to the collection. “Do you even know how hot you are?”
“I think it might have something to do with all the people messing with me.” Arthur bit out between shivery gasps.
Eames growled, low against his neck and they were tipping and falling down onto the bed. It wasn’t how easy Eames made it look, throwing elbows and dodging hits like he was in the fucking MMA. Arthur could hold his own in a fight, but watching Eames fight was something else. He was like a force of nature, and god if Arthur hadn’t wanted him so badly in that moment. It was only then that he realized that he had never once bothered to ask what Eames was in here for. Aggravated assault? He could see it, Eames bashing heads in, he looked the part, but it didn’t quite fit right either. Eames was too sharp for something as banal as that, sharp as a tack or maybe more like a blade, an exacto-knife or something like that.
Eames was sharp alright, teeth biting into Arthur’s neck derailing his thought process.
“Would you let me leave a mark here at least?” He growled against the pale skin there. “It would look so good. I’ll trade you cigarettes.”
Arthur laughed, ran his hands through Eames’ hair and brought his lips up for another kiss. “How many is that worth to you?”
“All of them babe, all of them.” Wasn’t that interesting? Arthur had seen some of the younger, greener kids sell for less.
“Go for it.” Arthur scratched the base of Eames’ skull, bringing him in for another series of tiny kisses. That mouth, it was delicious, lush and thick and Arthur just wanted to feel it all over. He wanted to kiss until he literally couldn’t breathe anymore, and normally kissing was just a first step, a way to get what he wanted more easily. Eames made it feel like art, tongue lazy and nothing like how quick and dirty he was with his hands.
“Good choice.” Eames was rolling them, settling more firmly between Arthur’s thighs. Arthur rutted against him shamelessly, stomach tight. It wasn’t quite enough, but it felt so good.
Arthur tugged at his jumpsuit, unsure what to do with his hands while Eames pinned him to the bed and licked at his neck. Each scrape of teeth was its own shiver, a drag of almost-pain tripping down his spine. He tugged at Eames’ clothes. He had caught sight of his tattoos when he was changing, showering, or stripped half down in the sunlight on the yard, but never let his eyes linger. Never gave into the urge to touch, to feel them out with the edges of his nails.
“Do you like bad boys?” Eames laughed the words huffed against Arthur’s skin. He leaned back so he could strip the top half of his jump suit down and pulled the undershirt up and over his head in one fluid motion. Arthur shrugged, as best he could lying down, slowly working the buttons down his own chest.
“I am a bad boy.”
“Hardly,” Eames said, breath hot against the sharp jut of Arthur’s collar bone, lying half in and half out of the top of his jump suit, and thin cotton undershirt pulled just to the side to give Eames space to work.
Well, he wasn’t going to take that. Arthur tucked his legs in, pushed up hard, and flipped them right off the bed. Eames landed with a solid thump on his back on the floor, and Arthur didn’t land any more gracefully, knees hitting the ground, but he’d made his point. Straddling Eames’ hips Arthur finished peeling himself out of his undershirt. Eames’ hands followed the hem up over his ribs, large and warm and thick enough to cradle his whole rib cage. Arthur looked down the line of his nose, and settled down more firmly, he could feel the hot rise of Eames’ cock pressing against his ass, jumpsuit doing nothing to hide his excitement.
“You’ve made your point. You are one bad-ass little bitch.” Eames pressed down on the mark on his neck with his thumb and Arthur couldn’t help but suck in a quick breath between his teeth. It hurt, perfectly.
Eames was shirtless below him, and the ink spilled down his chest and across those shoulders. Arthur fingered the one closest to his nipple, dragging the edge of his thumb nail across the Union Jack. He’d look like a twat if he got the American flag tattooed on him, but on Eames it seemed to fit, some London backstreet thug thing. Eames caught his hand in one of his own, drew it up higher, dragging Arthur’s fingers across the designs.
“I could tattoo you instead,” Eames grinned, sucking one of Arthur’s fingers into his mouth. He should have looked ridiculous, lying there, sucking on Arthur’s hand like it was everything he wanted, face flushed and eyes dark. Arthur shivered, licking his lips in response.
“No way in hell.” Sweet suction on the ends of his fingers, when he pulled them back a bit it left him touching the soft curve of Eames’ smile. It was slick and hot, bruised from their kisses. The only way that Arthur was getting a tattoo was in a sterile facility, after he’d inspected the autoclave himself. Arthur shifted back against Eames cock, feeling the weight of it riding his ass. Eames groaned, lips moving under Arthur’s fingers, rolling under him like a wave. Even with Arthur’s weight across his hips he didn’t have trouble jostling him on his perch. “Fuck. Your mouth.”
“Like it?” The words vibrated against the sensitive pads of his fingers. Arthur swallowed hard.
“Yes.” Was that his voice? It came out a little breathier then he had anticipated.
Eames smirked at him, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive pads. “Want to see what I can do?”
“I like it up here,” Arthur said, swallowing past the dryness in his throat, and rolling his hips in a smooth, slow wave.
“Oh babe, don’t be that way, at least give me a chance.”
“What kind of chance?” It was hard to sound smug when Arthur could feel Eames’ muscles flowing under the hand he was using to brace himself and the heat of Eames’ dick against his ass tempting him to just give in.
“The kind where I win back some of my fags.”
“Gambling man,” Arthur grinned at him. In here cigarettes were better than cash; you could actually use them. “Name your terms.”
“I use my mouth.” Arthur smirked. “Make you beg like a bitch. My bitch.”
“You think your blowjobs are that good?”
“Darling, I never said anything about blowing you.” Arthur swallowed hard as Eames drew him back down, fingers curled in his hair tugging him close. Arthur went, what else was he supposed to do? Eames was leaning up, licking at the corner of his mouth, breath fanning mint over Arthur’s face. “You have no imagination.”
Arthur groaned into his mouth, and Eames was kissing him. It wasn’t dirty, it was filthy; all tongue and lips. Eames’ hands smoothed down his back, rubbing at his warm skin and sliding all the way down to where his jumpsuit was pooled around his hips. Sneaky hands, wiggled under Arthur’s clothes, past the band for his boxers and dug into the muscle of his ass. Eames pulled him down while he pushed up. A little less clothes and Arthur would be riding him hard.
“Take this off,” Eames, tugged on the cloth. It seemed like they were on the same wavelength.
Arthur crawled off of him; his knees ached from the cement, but it was the least of his problems. Eames was sitting up at the same time pushing Arthur with hands on his hips up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. One step ahead, Arthur was kicking off his slippers.
Seeing Eames in the shower and looking at him all flushed and hard were two completely different things. He was beautiful, on par with any of the art Arthur had ever stolen, but that was possibly his own boner speaking. He licked dry lips, dragging his eyes up Eames’ body to meet his smirk and arched eyebrow. Arthur just gave him a smile. Sometimes you needed to know when you play your cards, and letting Eames know just how much he wanted it probably wouldn’t get Arthur fucked faster. His shoulders flexed as he pulled himself up off of the floor.
“Ah ah, my bet first.” Eames was crawling over him and tugging the rest of the clothes down his legs. Arthur kicked them to the floor, leaving him completely naked on the bed and too hot to feel the constant chill of the room. They took up all the space of the narrow bottom bunk, between Arthur’s legs and Eames’ shoulders there wasn’t any space left. Eames seemed to fill in all the air above him, and Arthur drew him closer, every slide and catch of skin felt incredible. “You know,” Eames kissed the flat disk of his nipple, lapping at it gently and looking at Arthur through his long lashes. “I was saving those to buy myself something special.”
Arthur laughed, collapsing back against the bed. Eames leaned up so he could kiss his neck again, a soft, plush drag of his lips, and the heat of his breath. It made gooseflesh crawl down Arthur’s arms. “Mine now, and maybe I want to save them for something special.”
“Roll over.” Eames tapped his hip as he spoke, and Arthur stared at him for a moment. He couldn’t mean--
“You’re disgusting,” Arthur declared, but he rolled onto his stomach anyway, hiking his knees up under him and pushing himself into a kneeling position.
“You could protest more,” Eames rumbled, voice coming from somewhere near Arthur’s hip. He pressed a wet, loud, obvious, kiss there. “Tell me how repulsive this is.” Eames hadn’t even really touched his cock yet and Arthur was mostly hard, could feel his pulse thrumming high and fast. “Go on, how much don’t you want it?”
Arthur didn’t say anything. But he was going to smoke one in front of him, just to spite him.
“That’s what I thought,” Eames said. His breath was hot and too close it made his pulse flutter under his skin, could feel the flush crawling down his chest. Arthur measured his breath, but couldn’t stop the jump when Eames kissed one of his cheeks, scraping his teeth across the smooth skin. Normally, Arthur would be face down in some of the most expensive hotels on the planet; the sheets here were too starchy, rubbing at his palms and knees. But Eames’ tongue was soft, tracing random patterns on his skin, taunting him. Arthur wasn’t going to give in.
“You’re going to need to do better than that,” Arthur managed to sound bored, but it was a close thing, words hitching in all the wrong places.
“Unimpressed are we?” Eames’ fingers dug in, spreading Arthur wide. Arthur shivered. He hated this part as much as he loved it. Feeling exposed, giddy and waiting for that first touch it made him feel simultaneously breathless and slightly uneasy all at once. “We can’t have that. When I play, I play only to win,” his next works were breathy, and it was all hot and tingly
“Famous last words,” Arthur muttered.
The first swipe of a wet tongue over his hole had his chest seizing up. Arthur let out a long shaky breath, trying to relax into the feeling, to keep the desperate jerk of his hips under control, slick and shivery, the roughness of Eames’ facial hair against his ass. Hyper aware of every shift, and every time Eames’ dug his nails into the skin of his ass. His tongue was right there, licking slick and Arthur was having a hard time regulating his breathing. Dirty, but so hot, wriggling right there but not enough.
Arthur pushed back against it, warm and wet and if it would just push inside it would be perfect, but he wasn’t going to give in this easy. Arthur was one bad-ass motherfucker, and he wasn’t going to beg just because some con was good with his tongue. He didn’t play to lose either.
Eames hummed, and Arthur felt the vibration in his toes.
He couldn’t stop the sound he made when Eames let just the barest edge of his teeth catch delicate furled skin, something caught between a moan and yelp. Eames just made a pleased sound, spread him wider, and he was leaned his weight on Arthur’s hips forcing him hold them both up with his knees.
“Oh god,” Arthur hissed, when Eames finally pressed at his hole with the flat of his tongue. He could feel saliva dripping and sliding down towards where his balls hung high and tight, and he shuddered. “Eames.”
“You can touch yourself.” He growled, low and rough.
That was a grand idea. Bracing himself on one forearm and dipping his spine low freed up one of Arthur’s hands. The angle was all weird and if he wasn’t careful they were going to tip over it, but it was worth it for the slick almost-too-dry slide of his palm against his dick.
Eames was sliding one of his fingers inside, and Arthur was all slick, wet with saliva. Eames was pressing deep, relentless, licking around the stretch in wide, warm passes of his tongue punctuated with shorter almost coy flicks. Arthur swore, shivering, caught between pressing into it, and moving away from the deep stretch.
“That’s a good boy,” Eames said; Arthur would kick him for it later, but right now he could enjoy that, the small thrill in his chest at Eames’ rumbled words. ”Go on, jerk yourself off.”
Fingers pressed deep in his ass, Eames licking around them, between them, and everywhere he could get his tongue. Arthur pushed back against it, shameless, jerking himself off in time with the twitch of his hips. It felt so good, set his nerves singing, screaming, begging for more. Arthur pressed his face into his arm and groaned into the sheets, gasping wetly and palming the wet head of his cock.
Eames caught his hand, fingers around his wrist and pulled it away, out behind him so Arthur had to arch to keep the pressure off his shoulder. His fingers twitched, aching to wrap around himself again, to test the weight of his balls in his palm, dick jerking helplessly. Arthur actually whined at the loss of stimulation, it wouldn’t have taken too much more for him to come, not with Eames’ thick fingers inside him stretching him wide.
“Come on love,” Eames purred, curling his fingers and pressing deep. Arthur moaned, pushing back. He felt too hot, skin tight, blood thrumming just under the surface. He bit his lip against the words, all the sounds building in his chest, muffling himself. He wanted it, he wanted it badly- the stretch and the feeling of being filled, filled out so perfectly. Eames tongue was back; it was good, but it wasn’t enough.
Arthur hissed, pressing back while Eames fucked him with his fingers and his mouth. Arthur’s dick was so hard, and if he could just touch it, then that would be enough.
“Eames,” Arthur huffed; the arm he was using to hold himself up was feeling shaky and weak. “Eames,” he repeated. “Please Eames.”
“Mmhmm?” Eames hummed, the sensation threatening to tear Arthur apart; he moaned long and low, all the air vibrating right out of his lungs.
“Fuck me.” He didn’t know how much more he could take, not without losing himself. His pride wasn’t worth it, just wanted Eames cock inside him, driving into him and pinning him.
“What was that?” Eames was slithering up his back, dragging his wet mouth across the small of his back, sliding in the faint sheen of sweat. “I thought I heard you say something?”
“Fuck me,” Arthur growled. So help him god, if Eames didn’t put that dick to good use, Arthur was going to do it himself. If he had to ride it, he was going to. “Dammit.” He twisted his fingers into the sheets and tried to push back against Eames’ bulk, moaning brokenly when there was no give at all.
“That’s right.” Eames cooed, pushing him flat against the bed and pinning him down against the scratchy bedding with one huge hand between his shoulder blades. “Beg.”
“Piss off,” Arthur hissed, and Eames was mouthing at the back of his neck, scraping his teeth over the knob of his spine just barely enough to hurt. Arthur could feel the unbearable heat of his dick riding the cleft of his ass, teasing him. He wanted to feel it, wanted it more than anything else, he needed Eames to stop being such a tease already.
“Don’t you want it? I could jerk off right here, all over your back. Rub my come into your skin, you’d smell like me, like sex and jizz.”
“No,” Arthur moaned, he twisted his fingers into the bedding and tried to cant his hips, anything to make the slide of his dick where he wanted it. “Don’t.”
“Don’t worry, babe, an ass like this. How can I resist?”
Eames rummaged around making little humming sounds as he went. The subtle sound of some foil tearing gave Arthur just enough time to swallow the desperate twitch of his hips. He wanted, god he just wanted it in him so badly. Pulse pounding in his head, and yeah, fuck, maybe in this moment he was Eames’ little bitch, but as long as he fucked him, Arthur didn’t give a shit.
The slick head was pressing up against him and Arthur breathed slowly, letting his head hang. The press inside seemed to go on forever, splitting him open, and open, and he was gasping, Eames’ fingers digging into his hips. He was so hot, light headed, and it felt like he couldn’t get air into his lungs. He rocked back, needy, wanting the stretch to go on forever.
“That’s good. You feel incredible, so good for me,” Eames mumbled against his spine. Arthur rolled under him, luxuriating in the feeling of naked skin sliding, of being filled. “So good.”
“Please move.” Arthur twisted his fingers in the sheets and used it as a purchase to push back, dipping his spine. The first few thrusts were slow, leaving Arthur gasping for breath as Eames slowly drove it out of him.
“I said fuck me,” Arthur hissed. Eames chuckled, low and filthy, stopping altogether so he could scrape his teeth of the sharp edge of one of Arthur’s shoulder blades.
“What’s the rush? Do you want it that bad?” Eames sounded so god damn smug, it made him crazy, he bit his lip against the whine, locking it in his chest. Only Eames was right: he really did, wanted it bad.
“Eames.”
“Okay.” The word was a breath, and Eames wrapped his hands around Arthur’s hips nice and tight, pulling his ass into the shallow cradle of his hips. Eames used the grip to fuck him, really fuck him. Putting all the strength in those thighs into fucking Arthur into the mattress, and he loved every moment of it. This was the kind of sex he loved: hard, fast, and exactly what Eames’ promised with his eyes, when he was giving Arthur one of those lazy assessing looks.
Arthur gasped and moaned, riding each hard shove. He braced his elbows on the mattress to stop himself from going face first into the bedding.
“More.”
“Greedy baby,” Eames said, and if Arthur had any shame left he would have blushed. Instead he just groaned, silently agreeing. “Hold on.” Arthur twisted to watch him, and Eames was lifting his arm, tangling his fingers in the netting from the upper bunk. Jesus, fuck. That was it.
Arthur whined, Eames’ name catching in his throat and refusing to come unstuck.
He could feel it everywhere, tension flying up his spine, and coiling low in his stomach making all the muscles in his legs tight, and Eames just kept fucking him through it, driving him higher. Stretching it out until Arthur felt thin enough to snap at any moment, pulling his nerves into confused knots. It felt like any touch could make him break, any moment would be the last, but instead it just kept coiling tighter, he was making incoherent gasping sounds against the bed.
“That it?” Eames said, his voice was wrecked, the words snarled against his ear and Arthur shook his head, yes, no. Hell if he knew.
“Eames.”
Arthur was being rolled, pushed down onto his back, legs going everywhere because he couldn’t seem to get them to go where he wanted. Eames was hauling him closer, grip on his thighs tight enough to leave faint red marks on his pale skin. Eames pushed into him again, face flushed and looming over him. It wasn’t as bone-jarringly deep, but that didn’t matter anymore. He could run his hands over Eames’ arms and feel the warm skin sliding under his fingertips this way.
Eames caught his hand, tangling their fingers together too tight making the small joints grind together, putting his hand down low on his stomach. “Go on.” Eames voice came out low and rough, Arthur hesitated, the edge of his hand bumping against the flushed and wet head of his cock. He bit hard on his lower lip. Eames grinned at him, razor sharp and Arthur shook his head. “Do it.”
It was almost impossible not to shoot off immediately when he wrapped his fingers around his dick, Arthur was wound up so tight, straddling the edge so finely that it was going to cut him to ribbons. Eames shoved his leg out of the way and pressed in deep. Arthur came all over his stomach with a strangled sound. It washed over him in a rush, up from his toes and his balls and everywhere at once, pushing him higher, tighter, more, more until Arthur was just coming apart, trying to just breathe through it. Dimly he was aware of Eames cursing, fucking him hard through it, not letting him come back down.
“Oh fucking hell,” Eames hissed, and Arthur couldn’t do anything but watch him, unable to even stop the small sounds he made when Eames drove back into him, over and over. Lips bitten and raw, Eames gave Arthur an almost desperate look, like he was barely holding on but didn’t want it to end. “Fuck, fuck.” Eames tossed his head back exposing the long thick lines of his neck, fingers digging in hard. Arthur groaned low and broken when Eames drove into him, grinding hard against his ass and coming.
The moment between them drew out, heartbeat thundering in Arthur’s ears, like the slow ticking of an engine cooling. Eames was breathing deep, tracing the lines of Arthur’s face with his eyes looking kind of dopey.
“It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” Arthur finally said, and he wasn’t sure his voice was even loud enough to carry through the space between them, rusty and thick.
“Funny,” Eames grinned, rolling off of him and gracefully to his feet next to the bed. Arthur figured he should probably help him, but Arthur was just fucked through the mattress and he had no intention of moving until he could be sure that his legs were going to hold him. Eames was tying off the condom and tossing it, washing his hands in the small sink.
“Lights out,” Terry, the guard, called and Eames’ smile was the last thing Arthur saw as the lights shut down with a loud click that echoed through every cell.
“I’m not moving, you can have my bed,” Arthur told the darkness.
“Can’t I just share with you?” The darkness asked back.
It didn’t matter what he had to say because Eames was bigger than him and he was crawling into the bed, managing just barely to fit in the narrow bunk. He cleaned Arthur slowly, swatting away his hands when Arthur tried to take over for himself. Feeling too lazy to stop him, Arthur let Eames have his way. For now. The heat of Eames’ skin pushed away the cold, and Arthur shifted over a little so he could curl around Eames when he moved to take the spot Arthur gave him.
If Eames said anything about it, Arthur was going to shank him the first chance he got.
“You know,” Eames said, and where he was pressed against his chest Arthur could feel the vibrations of his voice. “I never asked what you’re in for.”
“Theft mostly,” Arthur shrugged. “One count of illegal arms possession.” Well, that was all they could prove anyways. The rest was circumstantial and Arthur had a really slick lawyer. “I should be out of here soon enough.”
“Did you steal something pretty?”
“Jaguar XKR-S.” Arthur should have known better than to steal something so flashy, but it had been worth it. He was going to buy himself one when he got out of here, so much power when he put the pedal to the metal. The roar was addicting, worse than cocaine.
Arthur thought about the way Eames’ fought- dirty, with every intention to win; about the bruises on his knuckles; and the way he held Arthur down when he fucked him. He didn’t ask. Maybe later he would but it didn’t actually matter- did it?
--
When Arthur got out early (good behaviour, tenacious lawyer and a wee bit of blackmail for good measure), it was to Cobb leaning against his BMW, garment bag from his favourite store in one hand and a slight smile on his face.
“Time to go.” He tossed the keys, and Arthur caught them out of the air, feeling the ridges of the teeth under his thumb. He wouldn’t miss the prison, concrete walls, concrete floors or the awful bland food. All the million ways to destroy yourself.
“There is somewhere I need to go first.” Arthur said, and Cobbs kind of squinted at him, and nodded, slipping in the passenger seat of the car. There were things to steal. Money and information that needed to change hands, and Arthur was going to eat the biggest steak he could find. “Then we need to get caught up.”
“A lot has happened.” Cobbs agreed, Arthur clicked his seatbelt into place. Arthur couldn’t agree more.
Then he was going to go to the storage unit that Eames told him about, and use the code he’d traced out on his skin over and over until Eames could be sure Arthur remembered it.
--Some say ya troubled boy
Just because you like to destroy
You are the word, the word is 'destroy'
I break this bottle
Think of you fondly-- Franz Ferdinand - The Fallen
Pairing: Eames/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Rimming, mentions of violence
Summary: In which Arthur makes a horrible prison bitch.
Notes: Thank you to
bubbly for the beta, you are an angel. --In my blood I felt bubbles burst
There was a flash of fist, an eyebrow burst--
His stomach was in knots as they drove him to the prison, the back of the van was bland and bumpy; this was the part in the movies where the daring rescue happened. He wouldn’t admit it (he admitted to nothing, but the evidence against him was compelling), but he was terrified. He’d seen places like this in movies when he was a kid, dirty and filled with testosterone with nowhere to go. And in the back of his mind even when he’d been stealing, he had planned for being caught, but he was young and male, and in a certain part where all his considerable rationality couldn’t touch, he had thought himself invincible.
Life in prison wasn’t easy when you had a face like Arthur’s. He’d gotten sloppy once, just once, and Interpol was there to pick apart his mess. His accounts frozen, almost everything locked up tight and him behind bars. Prison was probably the worst place for him; Arthur was slim, long and lithe with a baby face that stopped aging when he was in his teens.
Theft wasn’t a violent crime, well it could be, but Arthur didn’t like to go there. The sheet levels of theft he had been pulling pushed him into maximum security, and a crackdown on crime meant that he was given a harsh sentence.
The rest was a blur. Arthur was processed, swapped out one jumpsuit for another. A local prison to a federal one, he could only assume the suit he had on when he was arrested had followed him and that they would eventually give it back.
There was a very, very large part of him that was freaking right the fuck out; he never actually thought they would catch him. Never. He was the best at what he did. They could only pin a fraction of it on him in total. But was enough, more than enough, oh god, maybe even too much. The corridor was lined with fences, went through the middle of the mess hall. He could feel eyes on him, all watching him, probing for weakness. Arthur held his head high, and ignored the various cat calls. He wasn’t about to slip up twice. He could pull himself together, he was Arthur and he fought dirty when he needed too. A place like this could rip you to pieces if you didn’t hit first.
The guards had all told him just what was in store for a sweet piece of candy like him. If his hadn’t been a three year term he would have told them with his elbow just what kind of pop rocks he was. But if he was quiet enough he could get out and vanish again, get back to his life. Like that was actually going to happen. Arthur figured if he broke the first man who tried to grab him, then there would be a precedent and maybe that would hold them off. He doubted it, but it was a good enough place to start.
Arthur was lead to a claustrophobic little cell that faced a window out on the yards; empty right now. Barren on the inside, aside from some paperbacks that lined the small shelf, the bunk-bed was pushed up against one cinderblock wall, and a faintly rusted toilet and sink combo-- it was lacking the Martha Stewart touch. “Welcome home.” The door slammed shut behind him leaving him alone with his thoughts on the meaning of freedom, and the shadows under the bed.
Arthur looked around, trying to keep the rising panic in check. He was locked in a box, a box where he couldn’t take a piss without supervision. A horn went off somewhere and Arthur moved, shifting to lean back against the far wall (giving him barely an extra foot of distance, but it went a lot further in soothing his nerves), watching the people walk past the partially barred door. The people who noticed him turned and stared, and Arthur stared them all down coolly. There was only one shot to make a first impression, and if he didn’t do it right, then his life wouldn’t get any easier.
Only the man who stopped at his door was simultaneously exactly what he expected and nothing like he could have ever imagined. “What have we here?” He smiled. “You look a little lost kitten.”
Arthur looked down his nose at him, leaning hard against the wall. This guy was built like a fucking tank, all broad shoulders and thick arms. He filled out the jumpsuit from the one shoulder to another like it was struggling to hold him. Like every prison horror story, but a little off. He was pretty, way too pretty in the face to be a run of the mill thug.
“Say that again,” Arthur taunted, his voice cold and sharp. He was used to dealing with criminals, though usually they were well dressed, all wolves in sheep’s clothing. This man was all wolf and unafraid of it.
“Oh?” His voice was smooth, lilting, accented. “I was just commenting that you look a little out of place.” He paused. “Precious.”
Arthur arched an eyebrow, trying not to let his irritation show. Until he could subdue the tank, his life was going to be really difficult. Pick and choose your battles; don’t telegraph your next move, verbal sparring wasn’t all that different.
“Well, I wouldn’t mention it again if I was you.”
“Ooh, kitten claws.” He grinned and Arthur frowned, letting the silence drag between them. There was nothing but them and the walls. Them and the walls, and a sentence that seemed to stretch into the foreseeable forever.
“I’ll tell you this once.” Arthur pushed himself off the wall, taking measured steps towards his new cell-mate. “Just don’t fuck with me.” He enunciated each word carefully.
“Loud and clear darling. I’ll try not to ruffle your hair too much.”
“We understand each other then.”
Arthur took the top bunk and wondered how long this would last. His cell-mate looked like your average two-bit criminal, even sounded a bit like one, but there was something in his face, the way he had sized Arthur up, that seemed out of place. There wasn’t anything he could do about that right now, just stay, plan. Wait. Three years, 1,096 days including February 29th.
By the end of the week, ‘kitten’ was the nicest thing he’d been called. Arthur had also fractured three fingers, tore one ligament and almost broke a wrist. None of them his own. He only had a few bruises to show for it. At least they had backed off; he wasn’t a twink to be fucked with. Years of Judo training being put to the test. If this was going to be the next three years he might just need to look into breaking out of here. All it took was one wrong step and he’d be seeing more dick then a locker room.
“Nice moves,” Eames grinned, putting down his plastic tray next to Arthur’s. The last man who did that had his face slammed into the table, and a set of bruised ribs when he kindly left the seat and Arthur alone.
Eames was a bit of an enigma; his interest wasn’t obviously sexual, well it was, because everything in here was repressed hunger. Money, cigarettes, food, sex, everyone only wanted what they couldn’t have anymore. Only Eames never seem inclined to act on it, he spent his yard time lifting weights or playing poker, he just baited Arthur when they were alone and then went to sleep. Arthur had taken down quite a few men who were bigger than himself, but he had serious doubts about his odds if Eames actually ever wanted something from him. Oh, he wouldn’t go down easy, (he never did) but he wondered which one of them would have more bruises at the end.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur said simply, cutting into his breakfast of deep-fried bacon and powdered eggs. He actually caught himself day dreaming about steak and garlic potatoes earlier. Even a good manicotti. He might actually be willing to blow someone for a nice manicotti after the first few weeks.
“James Tee will probably leave you alone for a bit.”
“Until the bones heal at least,” Arthur answered, and when he looked up Eames was grinning at him, wide and friendly. It made Arthur nervous. Eames played by his own rules, rules Arthur couldn’t figure out and couldn’t account for.
“Kitten is really a wild-cat.” Arthur’s grip tightened on his fork, something Eames seemed to notice, but didn’t care, if the way his eyes flicked to his hands and the edges of his mouth twitched. “I really was just waiting for you to get in over your head and come running back to me.”
“Try me.” Arthur took another bite.
“I’d really rather not. I don’t want to be the one to explain that to the guards. We’d burn the place down.”
Arthur couldn’t help but smile a little at that. They would. Burn it to the ground.
--
Eames’ mouth was hot against his, tasting like the harsh mint of the shitty toothpaste- all bite, frost and menthol. He couldn’t get enough (he used the same toothpaste but that wasn’t it at all). Hands on Eames’ chest, the rough material of his jump suit scraping across his palms, too much starch and nothing like the silky cotton or polyester Arthur used to wrap himself in, before, on the outside. Conversely, Eames’ mouth was hot, and so silky, everything and all at once, and Arthur luxuriated in the feel, pressing Eames against the rough wall and devouring him.
Eames’ hands, rested low on his hips, fingers spanning across the bones and holding him tight.
Arthur had a black eye, and Eames’ jaw was bruising even as they kissed. The guards might intervene this time (but that was later, unimportant), they had left the others in a pretty bad state, but no one touched Arthur. Not if they wanted to keep breathing. He would destroy them all if he needed to, and it looked like Eames would help.
“You know darling, if you let me brand you,” Eames mumbled against his mouth, and Arthur bit him, feeling the soft give of his bottom lip between his teeth, running the tips of his fingers along the blooming bruise on Eames’ jaw. “This wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Not happening.” Arthur tipped his head to lick at the hot bruised skin and Eames hissed, digging into the flesh of his ass and hauling him closer. Could they be any more prison cliché?
“No?” Eames asked with a tiny amused smile, Arthur kissed him hard to shut him up. His knuckles hurt where he had punched someone in the ribs; he’d been solid, not quite as solid as Eames, but enough to be like punching a wall in the ribs. He felt the flex in muscle moments before Eames’ hands dug into his ass and he was being lifted, clinging to Eames’ neck. He would be lying if he said that didn’t turn him on at least a little. It was intoxicating, the feel of strength and power under his hands, respect and something hotter. It wasn’t just the sheer size of Eames, it was everything he could do with it.
He couldn’t help himself; he’d more or less jumped Eames as soon as they got back to their cell. Couldn’t sit on his fingers any longer and pretend he wasn’t itching to touch. And it wasn’t like Eames wasn’t willing, pushing his tongue into Arthur’s mouth and making soft hungry sounds against his lips as they kissed.
“If I had known all it would take to get you, I would have fucked someone up a long time ago,” Arthur gasped against his lips, wrapping his legs around Eames’ middle and they were stumbling back, Arthur’s shoulders ran painfully into the metal frame of the bunk bed. A few more bruises to add to the collection. “Do you even know how hot you are?”
“I think it might have something to do with all the people messing with me.” Arthur bit out between shivery gasps.
Eames growled, low against his neck and they were tipping and falling down onto the bed. It wasn’t how easy Eames made it look, throwing elbows and dodging hits like he was in the fucking MMA. Arthur could hold his own in a fight, but watching Eames fight was something else. He was like a force of nature, and god if Arthur hadn’t wanted him so badly in that moment. It was only then that he realized that he had never once bothered to ask what Eames was in here for. Aggravated assault? He could see it, Eames bashing heads in, he looked the part, but it didn’t quite fit right either. Eames was too sharp for something as banal as that, sharp as a tack or maybe more like a blade, an exacto-knife or something like that.
Eames was sharp alright, teeth biting into Arthur’s neck derailing his thought process.
“Would you let me leave a mark here at least?” He growled against the pale skin there. “It would look so good. I’ll trade you cigarettes.”
Arthur laughed, ran his hands through Eames’ hair and brought his lips up for another kiss. “How many is that worth to you?”
“All of them babe, all of them.” Wasn’t that interesting? Arthur had seen some of the younger, greener kids sell for less.
“Go for it.” Arthur scratched the base of Eames’ skull, bringing him in for another series of tiny kisses. That mouth, it was delicious, lush and thick and Arthur just wanted to feel it all over. He wanted to kiss until he literally couldn’t breathe anymore, and normally kissing was just a first step, a way to get what he wanted more easily. Eames made it feel like art, tongue lazy and nothing like how quick and dirty he was with his hands.
“Good choice.” Eames was rolling them, settling more firmly between Arthur’s thighs. Arthur rutted against him shamelessly, stomach tight. It wasn’t quite enough, but it felt so good.
Arthur tugged at his jumpsuit, unsure what to do with his hands while Eames pinned him to the bed and licked at his neck. Each scrape of teeth was its own shiver, a drag of almost-pain tripping down his spine. He tugged at Eames’ clothes. He had caught sight of his tattoos when he was changing, showering, or stripped half down in the sunlight on the yard, but never let his eyes linger. Never gave into the urge to touch, to feel them out with the edges of his nails.
“Do you like bad boys?” Eames laughed the words huffed against Arthur’s skin. He leaned back so he could strip the top half of his jump suit down and pulled the undershirt up and over his head in one fluid motion. Arthur shrugged, as best he could lying down, slowly working the buttons down his own chest.
“I am a bad boy.”
“Hardly,” Eames said, breath hot against the sharp jut of Arthur’s collar bone, lying half in and half out of the top of his jump suit, and thin cotton undershirt pulled just to the side to give Eames space to work.
Well, he wasn’t going to take that. Arthur tucked his legs in, pushed up hard, and flipped them right off the bed. Eames landed with a solid thump on his back on the floor, and Arthur didn’t land any more gracefully, knees hitting the ground, but he’d made his point. Straddling Eames’ hips Arthur finished peeling himself out of his undershirt. Eames’ hands followed the hem up over his ribs, large and warm and thick enough to cradle his whole rib cage. Arthur looked down the line of his nose, and settled down more firmly, he could feel the hot rise of Eames’ cock pressing against his ass, jumpsuit doing nothing to hide his excitement.
“You’ve made your point. You are one bad-ass little bitch.” Eames pressed down on the mark on his neck with his thumb and Arthur couldn’t help but suck in a quick breath between his teeth. It hurt, perfectly.
Eames was shirtless below him, and the ink spilled down his chest and across those shoulders. Arthur fingered the one closest to his nipple, dragging the edge of his thumb nail across the Union Jack. He’d look like a twat if he got the American flag tattooed on him, but on Eames it seemed to fit, some London backstreet thug thing. Eames caught his hand in one of his own, drew it up higher, dragging Arthur’s fingers across the designs.
“I could tattoo you instead,” Eames grinned, sucking one of Arthur’s fingers into his mouth. He should have looked ridiculous, lying there, sucking on Arthur’s hand like it was everything he wanted, face flushed and eyes dark. Arthur shivered, licking his lips in response.
“No way in hell.” Sweet suction on the ends of his fingers, when he pulled them back a bit it left him touching the soft curve of Eames’ smile. It was slick and hot, bruised from their kisses. The only way that Arthur was getting a tattoo was in a sterile facility, after he’d inspected the autoclave himself. Arthur shifted back against Eames cock, feeling the weight of it riding his ass. Eames groaned, lips moving under Arthur’s fingers, rolling under him like a wave. Even with Arthur’s weight across his hips he didn’t have trouble jostling him on his perch. “Fuck. Your mouth.”
“Like it?” The words vibrated against the sensitive pads of his fingers. Arthur swallowed hard.
“Yes.” Was that his voice? It came out a little breathier then he had anticipated.
Eames smirked at him, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive pads. “Want to see what I can do?”
“I like it up here,” Arthur said, swallowing past the dryness in his throat, and rolling his hips in a smooth, slow wave.
“Oh babe, don’t be that way, at least give me a chance.”
“What kind of chance?” It was hard to sound smug when Arthur could feel Eames’ muscles flowing under the hand he was using to brace himself and the heat of Eames’ dick against his ass tempting him to just give in.
“The kind where I win back some of my fags.”
“Gambling man,” Arthur grinned at him. In here cigarettes were better than cash; you could actually use them. “Name your terms.”
“I use my mouth.” Arthur smirked. “Make you beg like a bitch. My bitch.”
“You think your blowjobs are that good?”
“Darling, I never said anything about blowing you.” Arthur swallowed hard as Eames drew him back down, fingers curled in his hair tugging him close. Arthur went, what else was he supposed to do? Eames was leaning up, licking at the corner of his mouth, breath fanning mint over Arthur’s face. “You have no imagination.”
Arthur groaned into his mouth, and Eames was kissing him. It wasn’t dirty, it was filthy; all tongue and lips. Eames’ hands smoothed down his back, rubbing at his warm skin and sliding all the way down to where his jumpsuit was pooled around his hips. Sneaky hands, wiggled under Arthur’s clothes, past the band for his boxers and dug into the muscle of his ass. Eames pulled him down while he pushed up. A little less clothes and Arthur would be riding him hard.
“Take this off,” Eames, tugged on the cloth. It seemed like they were on the same wavelength.
Arthur crawled off of him; his knees ached from the cement, but it was the least of his problems. Eames was sitting up at the same time pushing Arthur with hands on his hips up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. One step ahead, Arthur was kicking off his slippers.
Seeing Eames in the shower and looking at him all flushed and hard were two completely different things. He was beautiful, on par with any of the art Arthur had ever stolen, but that was possibly his own boner speaking. He licked dry lips, dragging his eyes up Eames’ body to meet his smirk and arched eyebrow. Arthur just gave him a smile. Sometimes you needed to know when you play your cards, and letting Eames know just how much he wanted it probably wouldn’t get Arthur fucked faster. His shoulders flexed as he pulled himself up off of the floor.
“Ah ah, my bet first.” Eames was crawling over him and tugging the rest of the clothes down his legs. Arthur kicked them to the floor, leaving him completely naked on the bed and too hot to feel the constant chill of the room. They took up all the space of the narrow bottom bunk, between Arthur’s legs and Eames’ shoulders there wasn’t any space left. Eames seemed to fill in all the air above him, and Arthur drew him closer, every slide and catch of skin felt incredible. “You know,” Eames kissed the flat disk of his nipple, lapping at it gently and looking at Arthur through his long lashes. “I was saving those to buy myself something special.”
Arthur laughed, collapsing back against the bed. Eames leaned up so he could kiss his neck again, a soft, plush drag of his lips, and the heat of his breath. It made gooseflesh crawl down Arthur’s arms. “Mine now, and maybe I want to save them for something special.”
“Roll over.” Eames tapped his hip as he spoke, and Arthur stared at him for a moment. He couldn’t mean--
“You’re disgusting,” Arthur declared, but he rolled onto his stomach anyway, hiking his knees up under him and pushing himself into a kneeling position.
“You could protest more,” Eames rumbled, voice coming from somewhere near Arthur’s hip. He pressed a wet, loud, obvious, kiss there. “Tell me how repulsive this is.” Eames hadn’t even really touched his cock yet and Arthur was mostly hard, could feel his pulse thrumming high and fast. “Go on, how much don’t you want it?”
Arthur didn’t say anything. But he was going to smoke one in front of him, just to spite him.
“That’s what I thought,” Eames said. His breath was hot and too close it made his pulse flutter under his skin, could feel the flush crawling down his chest. Arthur measured his breath, but couldn’t stop the jump when Eames kissed one of his cheeks, scraping his teeth across the smooth skin. Normally, Arthur would be face down in some of the most expensive hotels on the planet; the sheets here were too starchy, rubbing at his palms and knees. But Eames’ tongue was soft, tracing random patterns on his skin, taunting him. Arthur wasn’t going to give in.
“You’re going to need to do better than that,” Arthur managed to sound bored, but it was a close thing, words hitching in all the wrong places.
“Unimpressed are we?” Eames’ fingers dug in, spreading Arthur wide. Arthur shivered. He hated this part as much as he loved it. Feeling exposed, giddy and waiting for that first touch it made him feel simultaneously breathless and slightly uneasy all at once. “We can’t have that. When I play, I play only to win,” his next works were breathy, and it was all hot and tingly
“Famous last words,” Arthur muttered.
The first swipe of a wet tongue over his hole had his chest seizing up. Arthur let out a long shaky breath, trying to relax into the feeling, to keep the desperate jerk of his hips under control, slick and shivery, the roughness of Eames’ facial hair against his ass. Hyper aware of every shift, and every time Eames’ dug his nails into the skin of his ass. His tongue was right there, licking slick and Arthur was having a hard time regulating his breathing. Dirty, but so hot, wriggling right there but not enough.
Arthur pushed back against it, warm and wet and if it would just push inside it would be perfect, but he wasn’t going to give in this easy. Arthur was one bad-ass motherfucker, and he wasn’t going to beg just because some con was good with his tongue. He didn’t play to lose either.
Eames hummed, and Arthur felt the vibration in his toes.
He couldn’t stop the sound he made when Eames let just the barest edge of his teeth catch delicate furled skin, something caught between a moan and yelp. Eames just made a pleased sound, spread him wider, and he was leaned his weight on Arthur’s hips forcing him hold them both up with his knees.
“Oh god,” Arthur hissed, when Eames finally pressed at his hole with the flat of his tongue. He could feel saliva dripping and sliding down towards where his balls hung high and tight, and he shuddered. “Eames.”
“You can touch yourself.” He growled, low and rough.
That was a grand idea. Bracing himself on one forearm and dipping his spine low freed up one of Arthur’s hands. The angle was all weird and if he wasn’t careful they were going to tip over it, but it was worth it for the slick almost-too-dry slide of his palm against his dick.
Eames was sliding one of his fingers inside, and Arthur was all slick, wet with saliva. Eames was pressing deep, relentless, licking around the stretch in wide, warm passes of his tongue punctuated with shorter almost coy flicks. Arthur swore, shivering, caught between pressing into it, and moving away from the deep stretch.
“That’s a good boy,” Eames said; Arthur would kick him for it later, but right now he could enjoy that, the small thrill in his chest at Eames’ rumbled words. ”Go on, jerk yourself off.”
Fingers pressed deep in his ass, Eames licking around them, between them, and everywhere he could get his tongue. Arthur pushed back against it, shameless, jerking himself off in time with the twitch of his hips. It felt so good, set his nerves singing, screaming, begging for more. Arthur pressed his face into his arm and groaned into the sheets, gasping wetly and palming the wet head of his cock.
Eames caught his hand, fingers around his wrist and pulled it away, out behind him so Arthur had to arch to keep the pressure off his shoulder. His fingers twitched, aching to wrap around himself again, to test the weight of his balls in his palm, dick jerking helplessly. Arthur actually whined at the loss of stimulation, it wouldn’t have taken too much more for him to come, not with Eames’ thick fingers inside him stretching him wide.
“Come on love,” Eames purred, curling his fingers and pressing deep. Arthur moaned, pushing back. He felt too hot, skin tight, blood thrumming just under the surface. He bit his lip against the words, all the sounds building in his chest, muffling himself. He wanted it, he wanted it badly- the stretch and the feeling of being filled, filled out so perfectly. Eames tongue was back; it was good, but it wasn’t enough.
Arthur hissed, pressing back while Eames fucked him with his fingers and his mouth. Arthur’s dick was so hard, and if he could just touch it, then that would be enough.
“Eames,” Arthur huffed; the arm he was using to hold himself up was feeling shaky and weak. “Eames,” he repeated. “Please Eames.”
“Mmhmm?” Eames hummed, the sensation threatening to tear Arthur apart; he moaned long and low, all the air vibrating right out of his lungs.
“Fuck me.” He didn’t know how much more he could take, not without losing himself. His pride wasn’t worth it, just wanted Eames cock inside him, driving into him and pinning him.
“What was that?” Eames was slithering up his back, dragging his wet mouth across the small of his back, sliding in the faint sheen of sweat. “I thought I heard you say something?”
“Fuck me,” Arthur growled. So help him god, if Eames didn’t put that dick to good use, Arthur was going to do it himself. If he had to ride it, he was going to. “Dammit.” He twisted his fingers into the sheets and tried to push back against Eames’ bulk, moaning brokenly when there was no give at all.
“That’s right.” Eames cooed, pushing him flat against the bed and pinning him down against the scratchy bedding with one huge hand between his shoulder blades. “Beg.”
“Piss off,” Arthur hissed, and Eames was mouthing at the back of his neck, scraping his teeth over the knob of his spine just barely enough to hurt. Arthur could feel the unbearable heat of his dick riding the cleft of his ass, teasing him. He wanted to feel it, wanted it more than anything else, he needed Eames to stop being such a tease already.
“Don’t you want it? I could jerk off right here, all over your back. Rub my come into your skin, you’d smell like me, like sex and jizz.”
“No,” Arthur moaned, he twisted his fingers into the bedding and tried to cant his hips, anything to make the slide of his dick where he wanted it. “Don’t.”
“Don’t worry, babe, an ass like this. How can I resist?”
Eames rummaged around making little humming sounds as he went. The subtle sound of some foil tearing gave Arthur just enough time to swallow the desperate twitch of his hips. He wanted, god he just wanted it in him so badly. Pulse pounding in his head, and yeah, fuck, maybe in this moment he was Eames’ little bitch, but as long as he fucked him, Arthur didn’t give a shit.
The slick head was pressing up against him and Arthur breathed slowly, letting his head hang. The press inside seemed to go on forever, splitting him open, and open, and he was gasping, Eames’ fingers digging into his hips. He was so hot, light headed, and it felt like he couldn’t get air into his lungs. He rocked back, needy, wanting the stretch to go on forever.
“That’s good. You feel incredible, so good for me,” Eames mumbled against his spine. Arthur rolled under him, luxuriating in the feeling of naked skin sliding, of being filled. “So good.”
“Please move.” Arthur twisted his fingers in the sheets and used it as a purchase to push back, dipping his spine. The first few thrusts were slow, leaving Arthur gasping for breath as Eames slowly drove it out of him.
“I said fuck me,” Arthur hissed. Eames chuckled, low and filthy, stopping altogether so he could scrape his teeth of the sharp edge of one of Arthur’s shoulder blades.
“What’s the rush? Do you want it that bad?” Eames sounded so god damn smug, it made him crazy, he bit his lip against the whine, locking it in his chest. Only Eames was right: he really did, wanted it bad.
“Eames.”
“Okay.” The word was a breath, and Eames wrapped his hands around Arthur’s hips nice and tight, pulling his ass into the shallow cradle of his hips. Eames used the grip to fuck him, really fuck him. Putting all the strength in those thighs into fucking Arthur into the mattress, and he loved every moment of it. This was the kind of sex he loved: hard, fast, and exactly what Eames’ promised with his eyes, when he was giving Arthur one of those lazy assessing looks.
Arthur gasped and moaned, riding each hard shove. He braced his elbows on the mattress to stop himself from going face first into the bedding.
“More.”
“Greedy baby,” Eames said, and if Arthur had any shame left he would have blushed. Instead he just groaned, silently agreeing. “Hold on.” Arthur twisted to watch him, and Eames was lifting his arm, tangling his fingers in the netting from the upper bunk. Jesus, fuck. That was it.
Arthur whined, Eames’ name catching in his throat and refusing to come unstuck.
He could feel it everywhere, tension flying up his spine, and coiling low in his stomach making all the muscles in his legs tight, and Eames just kept fucking him through it, driving him higher. Stretching it out until Arthur felt thin enough to snap at any moment, pulling his nerves into confused knots. It felt like any touch could make him break, any moment would be the last, but instead it just kept coiling tighter, he was making incoherent gasping sounds against the bed.
“That it?” Eames said, his voice was wrecked, the words snarled against his ear and Arthur shook his head, yes, no. Hell if he knew.
“Eames.”
Arthur was being rolled, pushed down onto his back, legs going everywhere because he couldn’t seem to get them to go where he wanted. Eames was hauling him closer, grip on his thighs tight enough to leave faint red marks on his pale skin. Eames pushed into him again, face flushed and looming over him. It wasn’t as bone-jarringly deep, but that didn’t matter anymore. He could run his hands over Eames’ arms and feel the warm skin sliding under his fingertips this way.
Eames caught his hand, tangling their fingers together too tight making the small joints grind together, putting his hand down low on his stomach. “Go on.” Eames voice came out low and rough, Arthur hesitated, the edge of his hand bumping against the flushed and wet head of his cock. He bit hard on his lower lip. Eames grinned at him, razor sharp and Arthur shook his head. “Do it.”
It was almost impossible not to shoot off immediately when he wrapped his fingers around his dick, Arthur was wound up so tight, straddling the edge so finely that it was going to cut him to ribbons. Eames shoved his leg out of the way and pressed in deep. Arthur came all over his stomach with a strangled sound. It washed over him in a rush, up from his toes and his balls and everywhere at once, pushing him higher, tighter, more, more until Arthur was just coming apart, trying to just breathe through it. Dimly he was aware of Eames cursing, fucking him hard through it, not letting him come back down.
“Oh fucking hell,” Eames hissed, and Arthur couldn’t do anything but watch him, unable to even stop the small sounds he made when Eames drove back into him, over and over. Lips bitten and raw, Eames gave Arthur an almost desperate look, like he was barely holding on but didn’t want it to end. “Fuck, fuck.” Eames tossed his head back exposing the long thick lines of his neck, fingers digging in hard. Arthur groaned low and broken when Eames drove into him, grinding hard against his ass and coming.
The moment between them drew out, heartbeat thundering in Arthur’s ears, like the slow ticking of an engine cooling. Eames was breathing deep, tracing the lines of Arthur’s face with his eyes looking kind of dopey.
“It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” Arthur finally said, and he wasn’t sure his voice was even loud enough to carry through the space between them, rusty and thick.
“Funny,” Eames grinned, rolling off of him and gracefully to his feet next to the bed. Arthur figured he should probably help him, but Arthur was just fucked through the mattress and he had no intention of moving until he could be sure that his legs were going to hold him. Eames was tying off the condom and tossing it, washing his hands in the small sink.
“Lights out,” Terry, the guard, called and Eames’ smile was the last thing Arthur saw as the lights shut down with a loud click that echoed through every cell.
“I’m not moving, you can have my bed,” Arthur told the darkness.
“Can’t I just share with you?” The darkness asked back.
It didn’t matter what he had to say because Eames was bigger than him and he was crawling into the bed, managing just barely to fit in the narrow bunk. He cleaned Arthur slowly, swatting away his hands when Arthur tried to take over for himself. Feeling too lazy to stop him, Arthur let Eames have his way. For now. The heat of Eames’ skin pushed away the cold, and Arthur shifted over a little so he could curl around Eames when he moved to take the spot Arthur gave him.
If Eames said anything about it, Arthur was going to shank him the first chance he got.
“You know,” Eames said, and where he was pressed against his chest Arthur could feel the vibrations of his voice. “I never asked what you’re in for.”
“Theft mostly,” Arthur shrugged. “One count of illegal arms possession.” Well, that was all they could prove anyways. The rest was circumstantial and Arthur had a really slick lawyer. “I should be out of here soon enough.”
“Did you steal something pretty?”
“Jaguar XKR-S.” Arthur should have known better than to steal something so flashy, but it had been worth it. He was going to buy himself one when he got out of here, so much power when he put the pedal to the metal. The roar was addicting, worse than cocaine.
Arthur thought about the way Eames’ fought- dirty, with every intention to win; about the bruises on his knuckles; and the way he held Arthur down when he fucked him. He didn’t ask. Maybe later he would but it didn’t actually matter- did it?
--
When Arthur got out early (good behaviour, tenacious lawyer and a wee bit of blackmail for good measure), it was to Cobb leaning against his BMW, garment bag from his favourite store in one hand and a slight smile on his face.
“Time to go.” He tossed the keys, and Arthur caught them out of the air, feeling the ridges of the teeth under his thumb. He wouldn’t miss the prison, concrete walls, concrete floors or the awful bland food. All the million ways to destroy yourself.
“There is somewhere I need to go first.” Arthur said, and Cobbs kind of squinted at him, and nodded, slipping in the passenger seat of the car. There were things to steal. Money and information that needed to change hands, and Arthur was going to eat the biggest steak he could find. “Then we need to get caught up.”
“A lot has happened.” Cobbs agreed, Arthur clicked his seatbelt into place. Arthur couldn’t agree more.
Then he was going to go to the storage unit that Eames told him about, and use the code he’d traced out on his skin over and over until Eames could be sure Arthur remembered it.
--Some say ya troubled boy
Just because you like to destroy
You are the word, the word is 'destroy'
I break this bottle
Think of you fondly-- Franz Ferdinand - The Fallen
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Date: 2011-06-09 04:07 pm (UTC)you write them so well! i really enjoyed reading this; especially the push-and-pull between them and Arthur's sharp edges and the recounts of BAMF! criminal escapades. HNNNG it was really hot. all of it. :D
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Date: 2011-06-13 06:02 pm (UTC)Thank you! I actually fought with this so for so long, I'm glad it smoothed out, and that you enjoyed it. Arthur is always BAMF, even when he's being bitchy.
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Date: 2011-06-09 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 06:10 pm (UTC)Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it
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Date: 2011-06-09 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-09 04:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 06:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-09 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-09 07:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-09 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-14 04:30 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it!
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Date: 2011-06-09 11:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-16 03:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-09 11:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-16 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-10 12:29 am (UTC)I will give you all of my cigarettes if you write more in this 'verse.
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Date: 2011-06-16 03:08 am (UTC)Heee, you're sweet.
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Date: 2011-06-10 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-16 03:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-10 08:11 am (UTC)Almost makes prison worth it, huh?
And besides all the smoldering goodness that, honestly, I had to walk away from a couple times in order to not get overheated, the characterization of both Arthur and Eames was fabulous. I'm very much impressed with what you made this into and your handle on it.
Mem'd like whoa.
xoxo
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Date: 2011-06-16 03:12 am (UTC)I'm sure Arthur could argue with the method, but not with the results. Eeee, I'm glad you liked it! I honestly fought with it the whole way, I was convinced it was awful by the time I was done, so thanks!
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Date: 2011-06-10 09:23 am (UTC)CAN I JUST LIKE. WOW. OKAY. I'M GOING TO JUST READ IT AGAIN A COUPLE OF TIMES THEN MAKE A COHERENT COMMENT LIKE FUCK. WHOA.
HOT.
YEAH.
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Date: 2011-06-16 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-10 09:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-16 03:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-12 05:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-16 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 05:12 am (UTC)(And superbig squee for Franz Ferdinand! Such a great song for them.)
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Date: 2011-06-16 03:23 am (UTC)(I was writing and this song came on and it was made for the fic, and the fic was made for it, and it just became my jam for writing.)
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Date: 2011-06-15 06:41 pm (UTC)<3
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Date: 2011-06-16 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-16 10:59 am (UTC)Favorite part is that last sentence, though. <3
em
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Date: 2011-06-16 12:41 pm (UTC)Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.
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Date: 2011-06-17 03:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-18 05:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-18 01:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-18 05:24 pm (UTC)Of course he gets out eventually lol, but what he's in for is his secret =P