ficlet: shaving!
May. 8th, 2011 10:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_ragnarokInspired by this lovely piece of fanart.
Arthur stretches up in bed. Eames stays where he is, feasting his eyes on the clean long lines of Arthur's back until Arthur subsides with something halfway between a grumble and a snort. Eames kisses his side, then, and goes to make coffee.
Just before coffee, Arthur is a sleepy-eyed thing, careless with his personal space. He stands millimeters away from Eames, and Eames rubs a hand over Arthur's stomach, leaves it curved around his hip.
"I can't concentrate when you do that," Arthur mutters.
"Whatever would you be wanting to concentrate on?" Eames asks, and steals a kiss in lieu of a reply.
It's almost a shame, after coffee, to see Arthur coming back into his usual sharpness; Eames knows that those moments when Arthur's fuzzy around the edges are rare and far between. Arthur can't allow them to be otherwise. Neither of them can. Watching Arthur button up his shirt, spine growing straighter as the fabric closes over him, is an exercise in regret as much as fashion appreciation.
In a minor fit of pique, Eames decides not to go all professional just yet. He slips on a pair of sweatpants (he sleeps naked, always), opens up the newspaper, and sits at the kitchen table with a decided air of nonchalance.
This lasts all of five minutes, until he feels Arthur's hands warm on his shoulder. "Yes, dear?" Eames says, capturing one hand to kiss it.
"We are meeting Jenkins in half an hour, you know." Arthur's voice is laughter-tinged, and Eames gives in to the urge to lean his head back so he can rub his face against Arthur's stomach. "It would be nice if you put something on."
Eames tries for a micro-pout. "Are you saying you don't like me naked anymore?"
"Not in company." Arthur's voice is dry. "Come on, we need to make an impression." Arthur's hand tightens almost imperceptibly around Eames' right shoulder. "Pick a nice shirt. I'll make it worth your while."
Arthur hardly needs to bribe Eames to do his job, but if he wants to, well. Eames is hardly going to object. He even picks a nice shirt, one of the ones he'd bought to show Arthur how it's done.
It's plain that Arthur approves – if not from the smile on his face, then from the way he drags Eames to the bathroom.
"While I approve of creativity," Eames comments, "it's not like we've even had time to get bored with the bedroom – mrmf."
Arthur stops kissing him, which is a travesty, but makes up for it by shoving him against the sink, which is decidedly promising.
"Be quiet." Arthur turns on the faucet, running his hand under the water a couple of times before bringing his wet hand to Eames' face.
It's warm from the heat of the water. Eames' eyelids flicker shut. His cock grows hard, an involuntary response to heat, to Arthur.
He doesn't much like shaving, but it's different, having it done to you. The intimacy of it, Arthur's thumb at his throat, Arthur's close scrutiny, the sheer loveliness that is a sharp instrument in Arthur's hands.
"Stay still." Arthur's voice is soft, far from a command, but Eames enjoys obeying it too much not to. "You like this, don't you?"
Eames tries his best to speak without moving his jaw. "What gave me away?"
Arthur's unoccupied hand rubs firm over Eames cock, right through his sweatpants, and Eames gasps. "Mostly it's the smirk, actually." Arthur sounds thoughtful, but Eames can see the hint of smile, forming right there.
When Jenkins arrives, Eames is the very height of professionalism, dressed and shaved with meticulous attention. If he's also sporting a hickey right under his jaw, well, he's an adult and who he allows to bite him into orgasm is nobody's business.
Arthur stretches up in bed. Eames stays where he is, feasting his eyes on the clean long lines of Arthur's back until Arthur subsides with something halfway between a grumble and a snort. Eames kisses his side, then, and goes to make coffee.
Just before coffee, Arthur is a sleepy-eyed thing, careless with his personal space. He stands millimeters away from Eames, and Eames rubs a hand over Arthur's stomach, leaves it curved around his hip.
"I can't concentrate when you do that," Arthur mutters.
"Whatever would you be wanting to concentrate on?" Eames asks, and steals a kiss in lieu of a reply.
It's almost a shame, after coffee, to see Arthur coming back into his usual sharpness; Eames knows that those moments when Arthur's fuzzy around the edges are rare and far between. Arthur can't allow them to be otherwise. Neither of them can. Watching Arthur button up his shirt, spine growing straighter as the fabric closes over him, is an exercise in regret as much as fashion appreciation.
In a minor fit of pique, Eames decides not to go all professional just yet. He slips on a pair of sweatpants (he sleeps naked, always), opens up the newspaper, and sits at the kitchen table with a decided air of nonchalance.
This lasts all of five minutes, until he feels Arthur's hands warm on his shoulder. "Yes, dear?" Eames says, capturing one hand to kiss it.
"We are meeting Jenkins in half an hour, you know." Arthur's voice is laughter-tinged, and Eames gives in to the urge to lean his head back so he can rub his face against Arthur's stomach. "It would be nice if you put something on."
Eames tries for a micro-pout. "Are you saying you don't like me naked anymore?"
"Not in company." Arthur's voice is dry. "Come on, we need to make an impression." Arthur's hand tightens almost imperceptibly around Eames' right shoulder. "Pick a nice shirt. I'll make it worth your while."
Arthur hardly needs to bribe Eames to do his job, but if he wants to, well. Eames is hardly going to object. He even picks a nice shirt, one of the ones he'd bought to show Arthur how it's done.
It's plain that Arthur approves – if not from the smile on his face, then from the way he drags Eames to the bathroom.
"While I approve of creativity," Eames comments, "it's not like we've even had time to get bored with the bedroom – mrmf."
Arthur stops kissing him, which is a travesty, but makes up for it by shoving him against the sink, which is decidedly promising.
"Be quiet." Arthur turns on the faucet, running his hand under the water a couple of times before bringing his wet hand to Eames' face.
It's warm from the heat of the water. Eames' eyelids flicker shut. His cock grows hard, an involuntary response to heat, to Arthur.
He doesn't much like shaving, but it's different, having it done to you. The intimacy of it, Arthur's thumb at his throat, Arthur's close scrutiny, the sheer loveliness that is a sharp instrument in Arthur's hands.
"Stay still." Arthur's voice is soft, far from a command, but Eames enjoys obeying it too much not to. "You like this, don't you?"
Eames tries his best to speak without moving his jaw. "What gave me away?"
Arthur's unoccupied hand rubs firm over Eames cock, right through his sweatpants, and Eames gasps. "Mostly it's the smirk, actually." Arthur sounds thoughtful, but Eames can see the hint of smile, forming right there.
When Jenkins arrives, Eames is the very height of professionalism, dressed and shaved with meticulous attention. If he's also sporting a hickey right under his jaw, well, he's an adult and who he allows to bite him into orgasm is nobody's business.
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no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 08:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-14 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 08:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 09:16 am (UTC)♥_______♥
no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 10:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 11:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 01:07 pm (UTC)This is lovely. I love the dynamic, the way that Arthur knows just how to bribe Eames, and Eames can't help responding to Arthur. That may be an involuntary response, darling, but it's hardly an unwelcome one. Or unfamiliar.
I do like him stubbly, though.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 02:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 03:25 pm (UTC)He stands millimeters away from Eames, and Eames rubs a hand over Arthur's stomach, leaves it curved around his hip.
I absolutely love their sleepy morning selves.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 05:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-09 12:07 am (UTC)