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Work Me (Overtime)

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Work Me (Overtime)

 

“Alright, I’m going out to get dinner,” Dom says. “Ariadne?”

“Yeah,” she replies, from behind her cardboard model of the mark’s apartment building, “I think I’m done for the day actually, uh, just let me pack my things up…”

“Arthur?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

Arthur keeps typing. “Go away, Dom.”

“Okay, okay. Eames?”

“No thanks, going to stay and finish these passports,” Eames says, mumbling around the craft knife that he’s holding in his mouth.

 

There’s silence for a minute or two, and then.

 

Arthur hears Eames come up behind him, but he doesn’t turn around.

Heavy hands rest on his shoulders, then slide down over his chest, slow and possessive.

“I want to fuck you,” Eames breathes in his ear, low, gravelly.

Arthur says nothing, simply enjoys the weight of Eames’ hands on him; it’s been a while, they’re only three days into this job and Eames is already touching him. Touching with intent. Arthur wondered how long it would take.

“Really,” Arthur says, and tips his head back, tilts it to one side.

“Really,” Eames replies, and bites Arthur’s neck.

“I’m kinda busy,” Arthur says, breath hitching in his throat as Eames sucks a bruise into him, teeth on muscle, exactly where Arthur likes it. “I should finish this tonight."

“Then we’d better start now,” Eames says, “hadn’t we.” Arthur can feel Eames’ breath on his skin.

He sllides a hand down, covers Arthur’s crotch with one broad palm.

“Fuuuck,” Arthur says softly.

“That’s what I thought,” Eames whispers.

 

Arthur sits in his lap, white Ralph Lauren briefs stretched over his cock.

“These are pretty on you,”, Eames says, stroking up and down Arthur’s thighs, fingers brushing over the white cotton. Lazily biting at Arthur’s neck. Thumbs at Arthur’s head where it pokes out of the elastic, wet with pre-come at the slit.

 

They’re working from an empty office building. Arthur follows Eames into a room they’re not using.

Eames slams the door shut.


They kiss up against a wall, pressed together, hungry for each other, Arthur shoving his tongue down Eames’ throat. Eames is a filthy kisser, intense and greedy and relentless, and Arthur gives as good as he gets.

“You get me so hard,” Eames breathes into Arthur’s mouth, and Arthur presses a smug smile against Eames’ lips, grinding against him.

 

“Is it really necessary for me to take everything off?” Arthur asks, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yes, darling, I want to see you.”

 

“God, your clothes are ugly,” Arthur says, watching Eames unbuckle his belt.

“Then you should be happy I’m taking them off, shouldn’t you, darling,” Eames replies.


They undress quickly. Arthur folds his clothes over the back of a chair; Eames lets his drop to the floor, leaves them there.

“There’s lube in the top drawer of my desk,” Arthur says, as he unlaces his shoes. Getting undressed all the way at work is ridiculous, but he does want dick. Eames’ hands skimming appreciatively up and down his bare thighs, his ass, holding him up.

Eames’ eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You’re very well prepared, darling.”

Arthur smirks. “I figured if I had any spare time on this job, I’d want your cock in me,” Arthur says. “Now go and get it.”









“You think of everything, don’t you,” Eames says, jogging back out to the main room. “Born to be a point man.”

  “You didn’t bring condoms?” Eames asks, slicking his fingers up.

Arthur shrugs. “I’ve seen your bloodwork, I know you’re clean, obviously. And I like you bare.”

Eames raises his eyebrows. “Well then.”


Arthur bends one leg up, shifts his hips as he lies back on the desk, lets Eames open him up with thick, blunt, knowledgeable fingers. Thief’s hands; forger’s hands.

Eames runs his free hand up Arthur’s side, over his stomach, down to his cock. Arthur’s breath hitches when Eames takes him in his hand. “Such a pretty cock,” Eames says, rubbing at Arthur’s slit. “Next time I get you alone I’m going to suck you,” he says, and thrusts his fingers in deep. “Ready?”

“Yeah, God,” Arthur says, already getting breathless. “Get in me, hurry up.”

 

They kiss, wet, messy. Eames sucks on Arthur’s tongue.

 

Eames drags the head of his cock over Arthur’s hole, slow, torturous.

Arthur swears. “Don’t tease me,” he says, and then, “Oh fuck,” as Eames pushes in.

“Fuck, Arthur,” Eames breathes, kisses his collarbone. “Fuck.”

“Oh god.” He feels so full. Forgets every time how good Eames is.

Eames starts slow, fucking Arthur gently, sliding in and out unhurriedly, cock blood-hot and huge.

Arthur lets his head fall back, Eames holding him apart by his thighs, big hands warm just below his knees. His eyes wander over Eames’ broad shoulders, tattoos on his chest and arms, down to his thick waist; Arthur loves that waist, loves having it between his hands when Eames pushes him up against walls to lick into his mouth, loves wrapping his legs around it as he tells Eames to go harder, fuck deeper.

Arthur looks up into Eames’ face, with that intense gaze, obscene mouth, crooked teeth that Arthur has become more and more fond of over the last few years.


“God, you look good,” Eames says, sweat on his forehead, staring down at Arthur. “You’re fucking beautiful, you’re so tight, God Arthur.”

Arthur moans. “Yeah, fuck me, Eames, oh God-”

“Do you like it when I tell you how good you feel on my cock?” Eames asks, leaning down, voice low and husky, and he knows Arthur does; loves playing this game with him, whispering and teasing .

“Yeah, Eames, fuck yeah,” Arthur breathes, eyes closed.

“You look so good, you look so good with your legs spread for me, you were made for this, god, you take it so fucking well. You feel so good, . Fuck yeah, touch yourself.” Arthur moans. “Is this good for you, darling? Do you like being filled up with my cock?”

“Jesus, Eames, fuck,” Arthur pants, stroking his cock, pushing his hips up to wordlessly ask for more. “Please.”

Eames puts his hand on Arthur’s cock; Arthur lets him, his own hand falling away. His cock is hot, absolutely slick with precum. Eames rubs at the head with his thumb, and Arthur bucks a little, moaning.

Their breathing and the slap of their bodies together is loud in the silent building. Arthur didn’t realise how badly he needed to get laid; his body is so responsive, taut with tension, skin goosebumpy, sensitive everywhere Eames touches him.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Eames says, breathing ragged. “I want to ruin you, Arthur. I want to mark you all over. I don’t know if I’d rather come inside you or pull out and come all over your chest, see you covered in my spunk.”

“Fuck,” Arthur moans.

“Which would you rather, darling?” Eames asks, hands holding Arthur’s thighs up and apart, ramming into Arthur’s ass. “Do you want me to fill you up with my come? Or do you want to watch me shoot my load all over you? On your stomach? On your face?”

Arthur whimpers, gasping, high-pitched moans as Eames lifts his hips and changes angle. “Anything, fuck, I want it, fuck, Eames, fuck me, fuck me –”

“God, look at you,” Eames murmurs, “all that beautiful control, all gone, from steady to wrecked - fuck you feel good, you drive me insane, your perfect arse takes my cock so well - I could fuck you forever -”

 

“Are you still flexible?” Eames pants.

“What?”

“Put your legs over my shoulders,” Eames says. “Hang on.”

He pulls out, lets Arthur swing his legs up, and pushes back in.

“Shit,” Arthur says loudly, “oh, God, right there, right there –”

“I can’t wait to watch you come for me,” Eames says, “can’t wait to feel it, feel you come on my cock.” Arthur clenches around him and he groans. “God, darling, I’m going to fuck you through it –”

“Fuck, yeah,” Arthur gasps. “Oh god Eames –”

“Maybe I could give you a finger as well, to fill you even more, to push you over the edge –”

“Fuck,” Arthur cries, jerking himself, “fuck, Eames, keep talking –”

“Are you close?” Eames asks. “I’d hate for anyone to walk in on us, wouldn’t you?”

Arthur moans, flushed pink, colour high on his cheekbones.

“You wouldn’t want Cobb to see you naked on a desk with your legs spread, moaning like a slut, letting me bury my cock in your ass,” Eames says, in that low, gravelly voice that gives Arthur chills. “Would you be able to stop? Would you want me to stop? Would you want him to see me coming all over your chest, see how fucking hot I am for you, see how much you love it – begging for me to come on your face or put my cock in your mouth so I can spill down your throat –“

“Fuck,” Arthur moans, loud and desperate. “Oh fuck I’m gonna come – I’m gonna – Eames, fuck, Eames, fuck me –”

Eames speeds up, snapping his hips, fingers bruising Arthur’s thighs. “Yeah, come for me, darling, let me feel you, wanna see you blow your load, you gorgeous fucking slut –”

“Ah,” Arthur cries, convulsing, arching off the table, “oh God, oh fuck, oh my God, oh my God yeah –”

His ass clenches again and again around Eames’ cock as he climaxes, legs trembling, spurting come over his stomach.

“Fuck,” Eames says, breathless, “fuck, you’re so hot,”

“Come in my ass,” Arthur pants, laid boneless on the table. “Do it, Eames, I want you to come in me –”

“Shit,”  Eames moans, bent over Arthur’s body, fucking into him like an animal, “fuck, Arthur, god, you feel so good, I’m gonna –” he breaks off, gasping, the table shifting from how hard his thrusts are. His fingers are crushing Arthur’s hips; Arthur can already feel where bruises will be.  

Arthur feels Eames come, spurting, hot  jets of come inside him. “Fuck,” he moans, “fuck yeah, Eames.”

“Oh Christ,” Eames says, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Well. Thank you, darling.”

Arthur smiles. “The pleasure was all mine, Mr Eames.”


Fin