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On Coping with Workplace Stress

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It was supposed to be a simple job. All they had to do was extract the details of an upcoming business merger from the world’s most trusting mark. They honestly probably didn’t need to use extraction at all. Eames was of the opinion they could likely walk into his office, ask politely and be given the information they needed. In triplicate. With a smile.

But the client gets what the client wants and this particular client was willing to pay very, very well to get exactly that. So they’d come together, this four man team: Arthur on point, Pawell their architect, Eames as forger, and the current bane of everyone’s existence – Scott the extractor.

William Scott was a competent enough extractor, and typically not someone Eames has a problem working with. The same cannot be said for Arthur, with whom Scott seems to have taken an exceptional disliking to. They bicker non-stop almost from the start. Scott seems determined to stick with every flaw in the plan that Arthur points out right up until someone else mentions it, at which point he suddenly agrees to the changes all politeness and charm.

This meant that what should have been a week long job has already stretched out to three very tense weeks and would last at the very least through a fourth.

Arthur was a stringent professional, but even he had limits and his his stress level had risen to astronomical levels as the job wore on.

As the only person even remotely equipped to handle Arthur’s rage, Eames had shifted his focus more towards keeping Arthur from murdering the entire team and the mark and away on his forging. There was only so much he could do without giving away the exact nature of their relationship, however, especially with Arthur insisting they don’t fuck or share a room on jobs. So he did what he could, but he knows what Arthur can take and this job is really pushing it.

He was, therefore, not entirely surprised when he woke up from a practice run to find the other two team members missing and himself handcuffed to his chair. Arthur, who thoughtfully positioned himself where Eames would immediately spot him, has clearly been waiting for him to wake up.

“Mr. Eames, finally awake I see.” Arthur smiles as he walks over and removes the cannula from the forger’s wrist. He winds up the lines, cleaning the needles and beginning to pack everything away into the PASIV.

A shiver of excitement passes through Eames as he tests his restraints and finds he’s unable to escape. They’ve played this sort of thing before, but never in public, never where someone could walk in.

“You’re looking incredibly pleased with yourself, pet. Am I going to be burying any bodies tonight?”  Arthur knows he’s really asking whether or not they’re likely to be interrupted, but doesn’t respond.

He continues about his task silently and Eames swallows hard. This wasn’t entirely new territory, but it was rare and thrilling when Arthur took charge and always very, very good. “I don’t suppose it would help to remind you I’ve been on my very best behavior this job? And I know you hate getting dirty and I’m very good at digging holes.“

“Shut up, Mr. Eames, before I gag you,” the point man snaps, closing the silver case and turning to face the forger. His voice is calm and even as he continues, “I happen to know many things you’re good for and manual labor certainly isn’t one of them. I do, however, intend to put you to good use, so don’t worry. You’ll have a chance to convince me not to kill you.” He strolls over to Eames, hips swaying, and swings one leg over to straddle his lap. He clearly isn’t in the mood for playing coy and immediately he reaches a hand down to start working open his trousers.

Eames bites back a groan as he feels his cock start to fill with blood and pointedly glances at the door. As much as he wants Arthur, he is honestly afraid of what the point man might do if interrupted. The man has been pushed to his limits these last few weeks and is truly dangerous right now. His aggression is evident when he snarls and seizes Eames by the throat, pinning him back against his chair and fixing him with a glare. “Don’t worry about them. Worry about yourself right now.”

Eames gives a small nod to demonstrate his understanding. This is Arthur’s show right now.

Arthur releases his grip on the forger’s throat. With both hands free to work, he has Eames’ cock pulled out of his pants in no time, eager hands slowly stroking along his length. He licks his lips appreciatively, and works his hands over the smooth shaft, not bothering to hide his arousal.

“That’s it, Mr. Eames,” He purrs as he pumps Eames’ dick to full hardness. “I’ve been thinking about this big, thick cock all day,” he smirks as Eames twitches in his hand, a bead of precome dampening his slit.

“Unfortunately, big strong men like you always seem to get off on mindlessly plowing into whatever tight hole you can find, don’t you?” Arthur gives Eames’ dick a harsh squeeze as if in punishment for this hypothetical offense, prompting a whine to slip past the man’s lips. He can’t help but flush in arousal at Arthur’s expression, particularly not when he sees just how much Arthur enjoys his discomfort.

Eames takes a deep breath as arousal surges through his veins. The gag would almost have been a relief. He’d never seen Arthur quite this aggressive and vocal and it was honestly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Arthur was often hesitant to get rough with him and to see him pushed so far - Eames wasn’t entirely convinced the rest of the team wasn’t actually dead. Yet as Arthur’s fingers played lightly over his cock, easing back the foreskin and thumbing his slit, Eames found that he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

 “You’ve got this great big dick,” Arthur continues, “and I bet you don’t even bother to use it half as well as you should. That’s why I had to tie you down, you see. I want this, but I don’t need some big brutish beast ruining it for me. So you’re going to sit there and watch me while I ride this monster cock just the way I want.”

They both know Arthur loves Eames’ cock and everything he does with it, but the idea that he’s been restrained for Arthur’s pleasure, for Arthur to use his cock however he needs it fills Eames with lust.

Arthur slides from his lap, casually toeing off his shoes and slipping out of his obscenely tight little trousers. Arthur straightens, carefully folding and draping his clothing over his desk. When he turns and glances up at Eames, what he sees pleasantly surprises him. It makes his heart race a bit to see such an open expression of desire; he hadn’t even begun and the man already looks about to come apart at the seams. He knew Eames would let him do this, but didn’t think he’d be so into it. As a reward for Eames, he allows a pleased expression to slip out. “If you’re very, very good, I might let you get yourself off after you make me come.”

“Arthur you can’t-“ His protest is met with the back of Arthur’s hand.

Arthur cracks his neck, loosens and removes his tie, and settles it on top of his trousers before lifting his hand to cup Eames’ stinging cheek. “There’s nothing I want that I can’t have. You can resist if it makes you feel better, but I am going to ride your cock until I come.”

Eames groans that that.

“Even if I let you go right now, what could you do? Go staggering out the door with your pants undone and your big, hard cock out? Go find our team and tell them what I tried to do to you?” He leaned in, brushing lips against Eames’ jaw. “Do you think they’d believe you if you told them? Hm?”

Eames takes a deep, shaky breath to calm himself and settles fully into his role as ‘reluctant’ sex toy. Arthur was right. The team could come walking in right now and there’s not a single person who would believe he didn’t want this, because he was certain it was written all over his face exactly how much he did want this. God but he wanted it. At last he concedes, “They wouldn’t believe me, anyway.”

“That’s right,” Arthur says. He unbuttons the top two buttons on his shirt, rolls up his sleeves and slides back into Eames’ lap, immediately pressing forward to rub their cocks together. He rolls his hips a few times before releasing a soft sigh.

“You’re so broad, Mr. Eames. I’m spread so wide and my feet still barely touch the ground,” his voice sounds a little breathless. Arthur had always been a bit overwhelmed at just how big Eames was. His hips thrust forward slowly, grinding them together to a soft whimper from Eames.

Arthur hands slide up onto Eames’ shoulders and the man shivers. He moves fluidly, lifting his legs one at a time, tucking underneath him so he could kneel in the forger’s lap, shins resting across his broad thighs, knees tucked along side his hips. “That’s better, don’t you think?”

Without waiting for a response he lifts up, sliding Eames’ cock down along his own and then back in between his legs. His hips shift minutely, lining them up and he starts to press down.

Eames tried to jerk back. “Arthur, wait. Surely you’re gong to – “

Arthur cuts him off with a laugh but pauses in his descent. “Oh, Mr. Eames, did you think I wasn’t prepared? Did you think I was going to let you watch me finger myself open? Put on a little show for you? Don’t worry. I took care of that while you were having your little nap.” He blushes faintly over the admission, but his lips still part unashamedly to release a pleasured sigh as he presses the head of Eames’ cock inside himself.

His teeth sink into his lip as Eames fights to keep his hips still when Arthur begins slowly fucking himself down on his length, sinking a bit deeper each time. He imagines Arthur in the bathroom, fighting to keep quiet so the team doesn’t hear him while he fingers his tight little ass. The image has him feeling dizzy and overheated.

Despite the fact that he’d worked himself open already, Arthur was still so tight and the way he was clenching down on Eames’ cock had the forger grasping at the shreds of his self control already. This close he could see how Arthur’s pupils were dilated with lust, see the light flush of arousal across the bridge of his nose. God the man was beautiful; Eames wanted to beg him to undo the cuffs so he could throw him down and fuck him long and hard, but this wasn’t about him right now.

Finally Arthur settles down into Eames’ lap with a quiet moan. His hips grind in a slow circle that has Eames clenching his fists. They’d barely begun and he already felt absolutely wrecked. If he didn’t get a hold of himself he had a feeling this was going to be over incredibly fast. If Arthur didn’t already have a body to bury tonight, he almost certainly would after he shot Eames in the face for coming in under a minute while he was this wound up.

“You feel good filling me up with your huge cock like this. You’re so thick Eames.”

Dirty talk was his biggest weakness, and Arthur so rarely indulged him. Eames couldn’t help but groan in response, unable to stop himself before his hips gave a little jerk up, burying his cock even deeper into Arthur.

Even as he moaned, Arthur was yanking his gun out of his shoulder holster. The safety clicks off and he’s pressing it up underneath Eames’ chin before he finishes riding out the thrust.

“Did I say you could move?”

Knowing better than to try and speak right now, Eames jerks his head no in answer.

“Then hold the fuck still,” Arthur hisses at him.

He’d never considered himself to have a gun kink, but his dick is throbbing inside Arthur. He forces his hips to settle in the chair, praying Arthur won’t want to draw this bit out.

Fortune is on his side, tonight - Arthur tightens his grip on Eames’ shoulder with his free hand and promptly resumes fucking himself on his hard cock. Each time he pulls almost all the way off and slams back down using all the power in his long, toned legs. He builds up into a vigorous pace almost immediately.

Eames whimpers and writhes as the point man rides him. The gun is still pointed at his throat. He’s fighting with every bit of restraint he has in him to keep himself from thrusting up into that tight heat.

It’s like Arthur can’t get Eames’ cock deep enough. His cries are a mix of frustration and pleasure as he forcefully impales himself on Eames over and over. He’d needed this so badly these past few weeks. More than just the pleasure, he’d needed to regain a sense of control. He slams himself down harder. The forger feels amazing inside of him, but it isn’t enough. He needs more.

Arthur wraps his arm (and thankfully his gun) around Eames’ shoulder for leverage, pressing his face into the forger’s throat with a whine. He yanks the man’s shirt up so he can rub his cock against the hairy belly, leaving sticky trails along the skin. He begins moving in earnest, riding Eames with all his strength, bouncing and gasping. The friction on his dick is a poor substitute for Eames’ hand but he was already on edge and he moans out, “Eames. Oh my God, Eames.”

His hips stutter to a halt as he comes all over Eames’ stomach. His passage clamps down on Eames cock, even as the rest of him goes boneless. He slumps forward, panting against Eames’ throat.

The sound of metal grating on metal fills the air along with their gasping breaths as Eames strains against the cuffs. “Arthur, please,” he grits out desperately. Arthur feels so hot and tight but without thrusting it isn’t enough to bring Eames over with him. He truly, honestly loves to see Arthur come, but it’s hard to enjoy it right now when he desperately needed to get some friction on his cock.

Slowly Arthur regains a bit composure. Hi eyes still look a bit glazed over as he switches the safety back on his gun, placing it back in its holster. He slides the whole thing off his shoulders and carefully sets it on the ground next to the chair before peering up at the frenzied man underneath him through his lashes. He can’t control the self-satisfied smile that slips out as he pulls Eames down for a kiss.

His lips part immediately for Arthur’s gently probing tongue and he tries to focus on the kiss to calm himself down. Eames reaches his tongue out to tangle with Arthur’s, but he’s more than happy to let Arthur take the lead as he loses himself in the embrace. It ends far too soon and Arthur sits back, shifting himself on Eames’ cock and shattering the small amount of serenity Eames had managed to build.

“Mr. Eames, I must say I’m pleasantly surprised. You were much better behaved than expected, even if I had to get a little rough. If I let you go, do you think you can be a good boy for me?”

“Anything. Anything for you, darling,” he pants.

“And do you think you deserve to come?”

He just barely manages not to absolutely lose control at that. “God,” he moans. “Arthur, please.”

The point man smirks at that. “I’m going to uncuff you and this is what I want you to do: You’re going to carry me over to that fuckhead Scott’s desk and make me come again. After that, I’ll let you get off, okay?”

He allows his eyes to slide shut, and takes a deep breath before nodding.

Arthur tugs a key out of his waistcoat pocket and reaches around Eames to unlock one wrist and then the other before tucking it away again.

He’ll mentally congratulate himself later on managing to wait until Arthur secured his arms around his neck before grasping him by the waist and launching up out of the chair. Long legs slide around his ribs as he hauls Arthur over to the instructed desk. The second he reaches it he’s slamming Arthur down, hips already pulling back only to surge forward again without control.

Papers scatter everywhere as he begins pounding into Arthur, nothing held back - Eames had learned from experience that doing so would only piss Arthur off. The pace was nearly brutal, forcing cries from Arthur’s throat each time he forces his cock back inside the tight hole. His fingers are digging too roughly into Arthur’s hips, but he can’t make his hands relax. This feels too good for him to worry about anything but getting his dick as deep as he can.

“Are you holding back? I know you can fuck me harder than this,” taunts Arthur as he reaches down to stroke himself back into hardness. He normally wouldn’t be able to so soon, but he’s been starved for this touch for nearly a month and his first orgasm did little to sate his lust.

Eames growls - literally growls - and snaps his hips violently into Arthur, stuffing him full of his cock over and over. The desk shifts over with his thrusts until it’s slamming into the wall. It gives Eames enough leverage to finally give Arthur what he needs, deep and hard and fast.

It’s mesmerizing, watching the way Eames worked so hard to please him. His cock felt amazing inside, nice and thick, almost too much to handle. Arthur can feel his orgasm fast approaching and he begins jerking himself quicker. The sounds of the desk slamming into the wall aren’t nearly enough to drown out his shameless moans.

“That’s it,” he calls. “Come on, Eames. Fuck. I want it. Fuck me harder,” Arthur wails. He shifts his hips so Eames’ cock slides directly against his prostate with each thrust. It’s too much; he’s too sensitive, but he can tell Eames is getting close and he doesn’t want to draw this out for too much longer.

Eames is gorgeous over him – sweat running down his temples, his eyes closed as he fucks him. Rough, panting breaths escaping his plush lips with each thrust. Arthur tightens his hand, working himself roughly. He’s so close; he realizes he’s begging but he can’t stop. His legs clamp around Eames’ hips, pulling him in as deep as he can when he comes. He barely has the presence of mind to move his hand up to catch his come before it splatters his clothing.

Eames speeds up desperately, barely pulling out an inch before he slams back in. He can’t bear to pull out any further; all he wants is to feel Arthur – Arthur, who has clamped down on his cock like a vice. “Arthur. God, please darling, I need to come so badly.”

“Do it. Come inside of me Eames. Show me how badly you want this.”

Eames shudders and shoves himself as deeply into Arthur as he can force himself. The sound of Arthur’s words, laden with honest desire, are enough. His come spurts out of him, wave after wave flooding Arthur’s passage. His fingers are surely leaving bruises, but Arthur allows it and he’s too lost to feel guilty about it.

Arthur pulls Eames’ shivering body down on top of him, stroking his hair softly. They kiss briefly, both too disoriented to do much more than brush their lips gently together. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “Now go and get me my plug out of my briefcase, I don’t want to ruin my pants, they’re Dior.” Eames laughs and nuzzles into Arthur’s neck for a moment before gently pulling out, tucking his cock away with a dazed expression and moving over to Arthur’s desk to grab the item as instructed.

He returns shortly with the requested item and a triumphant grin, looking a bit more himself. “How long exactly have you had this in here? You’ve been holding out on me, you shameless little tart.”

Arthur rolls his eyes but opens his legs as Eames kneels down in front of him. A lewd moan slips from his mouth unbidden as Eames swipes his tongue over the abused hole a few times, easing the tip in just a bit before pulling back with a hungry sound. He presses the plug inside slowly but efficiently, planting a kiss on Arthur’s inner thigh.

“When we get back to the hotel Mr. Eames, I’m going to sit on your face and make you lick all that come back out of me.”

Eames closes his eyes and groans. He’s tempted to yank the plug out and do that right here, but no, it’ll be much more pleasant with Arthur kneeling above his face. He’ll be able to wraps his hands around Arthur’s trembling thighs and – he has to cut the thought off there or he really won’t be able to help himself.

“You’re going to be the death of me, love.” He reaches forward, grasping Arthur’s hands and pulling him into a sitting position.

Arthur used the grip to pull him up for a soft kiss. “Help me get redressed?”

“Of course, darling,” he practically beams. Eames fetches Arthur’s shoes and trousers, this time pulling the desk chair around to sit before the point man. He tucks Arthur’s feet into the appropriate legs and tugs the garment up to mid thigh. “Just a moment, dear,” he says affectionately, lifting Arthur’s feet one at a time to slide them into his shoes and lace them up. He stands him up carefully, mindful of the plug inside him, pulling the trousers the rest of the way up before turning control back over to him.

The shirt is smoothly tucked in, the pants buttoned and zipped and the belt clasped. Arthur arches his back in a much needed stretch, a soft hiss escaping his lips as the plug shifts inside.

“So I suppose I should ask about the rest of the team?” Eames questions. “Are there any bodies that I’ll need to bury before we head back?”

“Of course not Mr. Eames. That would be unprofessional. I sent them home early before I really did kill someone. Leave this asshole’s desk just like this, by the way. I want him to know.”

“You’re positively evil, darling. I love it.”

Arthur shoots him a glance that has his blood boiling again instantly. “Grab our things, Mr. Eames. I’ve got plans for you tonight.”