The Evening Light
Mar. 23rd, 2011 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ofvanity ALRIGHT. YES. I do realize that I am a very baaaaadddd person and relatively shameless, BUT. BUT. I need to get these out of my files. It's killing me, slowly. THINK OF THE FILE SPACE, GUYS. So, I bring you gifts, yet again. You know, good things happen in threes. Or, you know. Debauchery happens in threes.
Anyway. I bring you.
Title: The Evening Light
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ofvanity
Pairings: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 910
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Swear words, sex.
Disclaimers: I claim no ownership of the bountiful Inception kingdom nor of it's beautiful rulers, (i.e., King Nolan, Prince Arthur, etc, etc.). I am merely a peasant.
Author's Note: Today you guys will learn that I name all my PWP's after various light fixtures, versions of light sources, etc. ;D Also, this is the first piece I ever wrote for this fandom, some time back in November, for![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=2)
everhaunting through a series of text messages during the day. She asked so nicely. So it's kind of her fault. Plus, at the time, I refused to write anything that vaguely resembled a plot, for fear of not remembering the details of the movie correctly. It's a whole thing, but yeah, here it is. First piece ever for this fandom. First piece of anything I'd written in, over, a year and a half. Be gentle, guys, this was my first time at the dance.
Anyway. I bring you.
Title: The Evening Light
Author:
ofvanity Pairings: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 910
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Swear words, sex.
Disclaimers: I claim no ownership of the bountiful Inception kingdom nor of it's beautiful rulers, (i.e., King Nolan, Prince Arthur, etc, etc.). I am merely a peasant.
Author's Note: Today you guys will learn that I name all my PWP's after various light fixtures, versions of light sources, etc. ;D Also, this is the first piece I ever wrote for this fandom, some time back in November, for
everhaunting through a series of text messages during the day. She asked so nicely. So it's kind of her fault. Plus, at the time, I refused to write anything that vaguely resembled a plot, for fear of not remembering the details of the movie correctly. It's a whole thing, but yeah, here it is. First piece ever for this fandom. First piece of anything I'd written in, over, a year and a half. Be gentle, guys, this was my first time at the dance.Summary: Eames comes home late.
-
The door shut behind Eames with a soft click. He winced inwardly at the noise but when nothing changed, he proceeded to tip toe through the room. In the dark, he could barely make out the silhouette of Arthur’s body, slumped on the bed. Eames pulled the material of his shirt over his head and let it drop to the door. Crossing the room, he stopped on his side of the bed and let his slacks fall to the floor with a hushed whoosh. Making it a point not to breathe, he climbed into the bed slowly, on alert for any signs of life from Arthur. Confident Arthur was truly asleep, Eames relaxed his shoulder.
“Pick them up.”
The voice startles Eames and his hand twitches for the gun he left on the coffee table. He’s got an entire arsenal underneath the bed, anyway. Arthur’s is in the closet. And the bathroom. And in the kitchen. And Eames suspects under his pillow, as well. “Fuck, Arthur. You scared me.”
Sharp as day, Arthur deadpans, “Eames, a small girl with a water gun could scare you.”
Eames laughs, the knots in his shoulder unwinding themselves. “Hardly.” He snakes an arm around Arthur’s middle and closes the gap between them, “I can shoot a little girl with a water gun.”
“And you can’t shoot me?”
“You shoot back, darling.”
Arthur grunts noncommittally and twists away from Eames a little. “Pick them up.”
Eames buries his head in Arthur’s neck and places chaste kisses all along the curve. “Pick what up?”
“Your clothes.”
Eames kisses underneath Arthur’s ear, “Hmm, I could pick up my clothes, but I have it on good authority that you prefer me without them.”
Arthur arches into Eames’ tongue, drifting lazily around his collarbones, his plush lips sucking lightly around the bone.
“That predilection does not include your leaving them on the floor.”
Eames moves his mouth to Arthur’s Adam’s Apple, his fingers twisting soft circles into Arthur’s hip bone, “Doesn’t it?”
Arthur’s eyelashes flutter on his cheeks, “Nnngh.”
Eames twists his lips up into a smile and runs his mouth down Arthur’s chest, his hot breath leaving a trail down Arthur’s ribs. He crawls over Arthur and straddles him, dipping his head to tongue the inside of Arthur’s navel. He swirls his tongue inside and Arthur pushes his hips into Eames’ mouth. Eames palms his half-hard cock through his boxers and is rewarded with a low, gutteral sound. Eames scurries to rid Arthur of his clothing and quips quietly, “What was that about my clothes?”
Before he can respond, Eames ducks in and licks a long stripe up Arthur’s cock. Arthur tosses his head back into the pillows, “Eames, fuck,” all breathy and loose.
Eames can feel the heat pooling in his stomach, tightening already. He glances up to see Arthur’s hand tangled in his own hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Arthur looks down in time to see Eames’ wrap his plush lips around Arthur’s aching cock, taking the weight to the back of his throat. Arthur bucks his hips softly, arching into the slick heat of Eames’ mouth. Eames bobs up and down on the head, twisting his tongue on the underside of Arthur’s cock, hands gripping Arthur’s hips to keep him in place. Arthur gasps impatiently, the pressure building in his belly.
Eames lifts off, lapping loudly against Arthur’s cock, slow, broad strokes. Arthur’s toes curl, he lifts his lips urgently to Eames’ mouth. Eames licks the crown, tonguing the slit before he sits up and reaches over Arthur’s chest to kiss his mouth. He sucks on Arthur’s bottom lip and brushes his fully erect cock on Arthur’s thigh, rubbing himself slick over precome and moaning into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur reaches down and grasps his cock inside his boxer, jacking anxiously. Eames gnashes his teeth, grinding into Arthur’s palm, “Arthur, dahh-darling, fuck.”
Arthur’s hand twists and tugs, getting Eames off rapidly. Arthur flicks his wrist feverently, squeezing Eames’ cock lightly and Eames stills as he comes hot in Arthur’s hand and his own clothes. Eames gasps in his orgasm, nipping Arthur’s collarbone in appreciation. Arthur strokes a few more times before he lets his hand fall out and onto his own cock, slick with Eames’ come. Eames sucks his collar again, making Arthur groan sweetly, the wet sound of skin slapping nearly swallowing the small noise. “Oh, no, love, I always finished what I’ve started.”
Eames wraps his fingers around Arthur’s cock and strokes a handful of times before Arthur comes with a string of swear words, spasms rocking up his spine. Eames coaxes the last of his orgasm out of him, then stands with a sigh of contentment. He takes off his ruined boxers and uses them to clean them both up. Cold air hits Arthur’s skin and he pulls the the covers back up to his chest, settling back into bed.
Eames folds the boxers up messily before tossing them in the general direction of his other clothes. He climbs back into bed, settling against Arthur placidly. He kisses Arthur softly on the cheek and nuzzles his nose against his cheekbone. Eames pretends not to see the smile on Arthur’s lips, just enjoying the moment. He can feel the pressure dissipating from his shoulders and sleep seeping into his eyelids. And beside him, he hears, clear as day, and snapping him awake, “Eames.”
“Yes, love?”
“Pick that up.”
-
The door shut behind Eames with a soft click. He winced inwardly at the noise but when nothing changed, he proceeded to tip toe through the room. In the dark, he could barely make out the silhouette of Arthur’s body, slumped on the bed. Eames pulled the material of his shirt over his head and let it drop to the door. Crossing the room, he stopped on his side of the bed and let his slacks fall to the floor with a hushed whoosh. Making it a point not to breathe, he climbed into the bed slowly, on alert for any signs of life from Arthur. Confident Arthur was truly asleep, Eames relaxed his shoulder.
“Pick them up.”
The voice startles Eames and his hand twitches for the gun he left on the coffee table. He’s got an entire arsenal underneath the bed, anyway. Arthur’s is in the closet. And the bathroom. And in the kitchen. And Eames suspects under his pillow, as well. “Fuck, Arthur. You scared me.”
Sharp as day, Arthur deadpans, “Eames, a small girl with a water gun could scare you.”
Eames laughs, the knots in his shoulder unwinding themselves. “Hardly.” He snakes an arm around Arthur’s middle and closes the gap between them, “I can shoot a little girl with a water gun.”
“And you can’t shoot me?”
“You shoot back, darling.”
Arthur grunts noncommittally and twists away from Eames a little. “Pick them up.”
Eames buries his head in Arthur’s neck and places chaste kisses all along the curve. “Pick what up?”
“Your clothes.”
Eames kisses underneath Arthur’s ear, “Hmm, I could pick up my clothes, but I have it on good authority that you prefer me without them.”
Arthur arches into Eames’ tongue, drifting lazily around his collarbones, his plush lips sucking lightly around the bone.
“That predilection does not include your leaving them on the floor.”
Eames moves his mouth to Arthur’s Adam’s Apple, his fingers twisting soft circles into Arthur’s hip bone, “Doesn’t it?”
Arthur’s eyelashes flutter on his cheeks, “Nnngh.”
Eames twists his lips up into a smile and runs his mouth down Arthur’s chest, his hot breath leaving a trail down Arthur’s ribs. He crawls over Arthur and straddles him, dipping his head to tongue the inside of Arthur’s navel. He swirls his tongue inside and Arthur pushes his hips into Eames’ mouth. Eames palms his half-hard cock through his boxers and is rewarded with a low, gutteral sound. Eames scurries to rid Arthur of his clothing and quips quietly, “What was that about my clothes?”
Before he can respond, Eames ducks in and licks a long stripe up Arthur’s cock. Arthur tosses his head back into the pillows, “Eames, fuck,” all breathy and loose.
Eames can feel the heat pooling in his stomach, tightening already. He glances up to see Arthur’s hand tangled in his own hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Arthur looks down in time to see Eames’ wrap his plush lips around Arthur’s aching cock, taking the weight to the back of his throat. Arthur bucks his hips softly, arching into the slick heat of Eames’ mouth. Eames bobs up and down on the head, twisting his tongue on the underside of Arthur’s cock, hands gripping Arthur’s hips to keep him in place. Arthur gasps impatiently, the pressure building in his belly.
Eames lifts off, lapping loudly against Arthur’s cock, slow, broad strokes. Arthur’s toes curl, he lifts his lips urgently to Eames’ mouth. Eames licks the crown, tonguing the slit before he sits up and reaches over Arthur’s chest to kiss his mouth. He sucks on Arthur’s bottom lip and brushes his fully erect cock on Arthur’s thigh, rubbing himself slick over precome and moaning into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur reaches down and grasps his cock inside his boxer, jacking anxiously. Eames gnashes his teeth, grinding into Arthur’s palm, “Arthur, dahh-darling, fuck.”
Arthur’s hand twists and tugs, getting Eames off rapidly. Arthur flicks his wrist feverently, squeezing Eames’ cock lightly and Eames stills as he comes hot in Arthur’s hand and his own clothes. Eames gasps in his orgasm, nipping Arthur’s collarbone in appreciation. Arthur strokes a few more times before he lets his hand fall out and onto his own cock, slick with Eames’ come. Eames sucks his collar again, making Arthur groan sweetly, the wet sound of skin slapping nearly swallowing the small noise. “Oh, no, love, I always finished what I’ve started.”
Eames wraps his fingers around Arthur’s cock and strokes a handful of times before Arthur comes with a string of swear words, spasms rocking up his spine. Eames coaxes the last of his orgasm out of him, then stands with a sigh of contentment. He takes off his ruined boxers and uses them to clean them both up. Cold air hits Arthur’s skin and he pulls the the covers back up to his chest, settling back into bed.
Eames folds the boxers up messily before tossing them in the general direction of his other clothes. He climbs back into bed, settling against Arthur placidly. He kisses Arthur softly on the cheek and nuzzles his nose against his cheekbone. Eames pretends not to see the smile on Arthur’s lips, just enjoying the moment. He can feel the pressure dissipating from his shoulders and sleep seeping into his eyelids. And beside him, he hears, clear as day, and snapping him awake, “Eames.”
“Yes, love?”
“Pick that up.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-03-23 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-23 11:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-23 10:12 pm (UTC)“Eames, a small girl with a water gun could scare you.”
may be the best line ever! lol
no subject
Date: 2011-03-23 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-24 03:35 am (UTC)<3
no subject
Date: 2011-03-24 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-24 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-24 09:47 pm (UTC):D :D
no subject
Date: 2011-03-27 06:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-27 11:03 pm (UTC)