loadedparadox | (no subject)

(no subject)

What: Military manuevers
When: After this.
Who: Arthur and Eames

Arthur took his time, leaving Eames to wait for him. Slipping off his shoes and socks, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he went into the other room and got the PASIV.

Slipping into the bedroom, he didn't look at Eames as he moved to the bed, setting it down on the foot of the bed.

"Get comfortable, Soldier."

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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?"

It was sadistic of him, but Arthur loved this. he loved pushing his lover, watching him to see how long he could withstand the the heat and the touch and the desire. He loved it though, loved that he tried and wanted it. Especially with how tight he was, how wickedly beautiful.

"You go above and beyond, Soldier," he murmured, nipping the side of his neck.

Shuddering slightly, cock hard and pressed against the restriction of his trousers, Eames stiffles another groan this time, louder than the last.

"I like being of the best, sir."

Sliding a second finger in, scissoring them, working faster now, a bit harder and revealing just how much Arthur was enjoying this, that he wanted Eames and all he offered the pointman.

"You're the best fuck I know," he growled, nipping the side of his neck.

He ends up with his throat tipped back, eyes closed, breathing tight and hard in his lungs.

"Arth-" he nearly breathes out, catches himself at the last moment, lips pressed together to stop him from moaning.

His fingers stopped , deep and held there as he growled, low and deep in his throat. "What was that, Soldier?" He smiled though, slowly pulling his fingers out before pressing the head of his cock to Eames' ass.

"No- nothing, sir. Sorry, slip up," Eames gasps out, sounding like he's almost close to babbling, voice desperate and strained.

Rocking his hips, pushing against him but not in, not taking him. Not yet. "Are you certain? What was it you wanted to say, Soldier? Something you wanted to ask for?"

He struggles to keep his composure for a moment, lost in his own thoughts before he hums, "I need - I need this."

Reaching around, one hand stroked the hard length of Eames' cock even as Arthur rolled his hips again. "Need what? Tell me." He fairly purred the words, seemingly enjoying the game.

"I need you to fuck me," he admits in a rush, dick twitching in Arthur's grip, "Own me. I need you to own me."

Slicking his hand over his cock and then pushing, hard, guiding himself into that sweet, perfect, willing body. "Do you doubt it," he snarled. "Doubt at all that I own you?"

"No," he moans a little louder than he should, body giving in easily to him, clenching around him, "No, of course not."