loadedparadox | (no subject)

Eames cants his gaze downwards at that, every bit the man hiding something via ommission. He looks over to the floor beneath them and at the dancing couples.

"It's not really my thing."

Arthur moved to one side, nearly brushing against Eames as he looked down over the railing. "What isn't, Soldier? Dancing? Relaxing and enjoying yourself?" He leaned in close, lips nearly brushing Eames' lip. "Or did you mean the girls?"

He practically melts the minute Arthur's near to him, eyes glued to his face in a way that makes him look a lot younger than he ever really seems. Gaze flickering to Arthur's lips and then back to his eyes, Eames clears his throat a little.

"Is it that obvious?"

It is a thing of beauty, the way Eames looks at him, those bright eyes mixed with his careful posture. Noting that look, the way he's watching him.

"Obvious that you could be down there enjoying yourself, doing what most are and slipping away for some private entertainment? My job to watch my troops and know, is it not?"

Every inch of Arthur ached to touch, to take, but there was a game to played, the intimacy given in the form of their roles played out.

"You're here though. Watching. Which of them has caught your eye, Soldier?"

He's quiet for a moment, lips pressed together in thought as he tries to work out a fitting answer. It's very unlike the Eames of now, who just speaks his mind, this is careful.

"Nobody."

Arthur's brow jerked up. "No one? No one at all has caught your eye?" He smiled then, a slow to come, wickedly dark smile. "Why don't I believe that, Soldier?"

He leaned in close once more, whispering as if afraid of being overheard by the projections in uniform. "Perhaps I should send you back to the barracks then. Or maybe come up with something for you here."

Wetting his lips, Eames tips his head, fingers clenching at his side. Arthur's close enough that he can smell him, reach out and touch if he wants, but part of the game is that he can't, not in this role.

"Whatever you wish, Sir."

Arthur was quiet. He moved to look over the rail once more before moving to stand before Eames again. Looking him over, slow and steady, considering everything about the man. He was exquisite like this. Utterly and perfectly exquisite.

"You'd be surprised at what I wish, Soldier."

"I'm duty bound to follow orders, Sir."

There's the slightest quirk of a smile there, a little more youthful, like the cocky teen Eames would have been before signing up, all the crooked flash of teeth.

Arthur's gaze dropped to the wall before moving back to Eames. "I put you down to give me twenty and no one would see you. I could get anything from you I wanted and no one would know, could stop me."

Shivering slightly, Eames wets his lips, shifts his gaze into something nervous, "No sir, they couldn't."

He smiled then but he didn't give him an order to get down and give him twenty. Instead he nodded. "Turn and face the wall. Hands on it."

He doesn't even think about it, just swallows like he's nervous and turns sharply, the practised movement of any soldier. His hands plant against the wall, fingers twitching for a second. He remains silent though, waiting and ever obedient.

Arthur looked him over from behind, slow, taking his time to enjoy the view. "I have to wonder," he began, voice low but crisp. "From this angle, with your broad shoulders, would anyone below be able to see me if I took you right here and now," he said, a bit of a growl on those last words.

Letting his head drop forward, Eames has to take a moment to pull himself back in to his character which is saying something about Arthur's power over him, because usually he's flawless.

He swallows the hard lump in his throat, screwing his eyes up and exhaling slowly.

"I doubt they would, sir."

Reaching around Eames, Arthur was glad that Eames couldn't see his face as he gave a tug on the other man's belt, loosing it but not releasing it. "And you want it, don't you, Soldier? Standing here, staring at your fellow soldiers, at me, and thinking about it, aren't you?"

Asked even as he undid the button fly, making sure things were just loose enough he could pull Eames' trousers down in the back. He growled. "Answer me!"

"Yes," he replies in a slight sound, curling off into a groan that Eames tries to keep quiet, breathing irregular and lost in his throat, "Yes."

His fingers flex against the wall as he breathes but doesn't make any move to help Arthur, stays as still as he can, because he's been put there and it's only right that he stays.

A hint of a smirk grew to a full smile as Arthur stepped back just enough to tug those trousers down a bit. Stepping back in, grinding himself to Eames' bare ass as he whispered in his ear.

"I don't think you can do this, Soldier. Can you stand so perfectly still, take it and not cry out like the needy bitch you obviously are?" His tongue brushed the curve of Eames' ear.

There's a gasp from Eames, body going tight and tingling from the words alone. He has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from moaning loudly, from drawing attention to the pair of them. He exhales softly, keeping still for a moment before he finally answers.

"I'm trained to keep my head under pressure, Sir. If course I can."

"We'll see," he murmured, hand dipping into the pocket of the uniform and finding a small packet of lubricant. Using his teeth to open it. A moment later slick fingers played over the tight pucker of Eames' ass.

"Spread your legs wider."

He does as he's told, boots squeaking as he shifts his feet further apart. He wants to do nothing more than push back into the wet slide of Arthur's hand, but this is a game and sometimes in games there are rules. Eames knows that, Eames enjoys that.

"What do you think they would say if the others realized how eagerly you were giving it up to me," Arthur asked, pushing a single digit against his lover and then further, taking him in that way. "Not that I'm disappointed in you giving it up like this. Only to me," he added with a low growl.

"That I - ah -," he gets cut off by the press of a finger, the pressure making him want to squirm, "I'm particularly dedicated to Queen and Country, sir?"

Those words certainly got a chuckle, taking him with that single digit. Leaning in, breathing against his ear as he started working him open with a slow steady fuck of his finger. "You most certainly are dedicated.'

He struggles to stop himself from pushing back, skin ablaze with want and need, with the feeling fo Arthur working him open, digging into tight heat. He has to press his face into the curve of his arm to stop the moan from getting too loud, from attracting attention.

"Have t-to be dedicated to be here, don't you?"