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The coin floated through the air with a kind of fatalistic elegance that seemed to have been stolen straight from some pretentious indie film. Arthur felt his stomach drop as he followed its trajectory until it landed into Dom’s awaiting palm. The coin was then clasped tightly, flipped over and slammed back down in a practised movement, before Dom pulled back his hand to reveal the outcome.
Arthur cursed bitterly and Dom smirked.
“Bad luck, Arthur.” He offered his condolences in such an artificial way it was hard for Arthur to resist punching him. The coin must be fake – unfairly biased. Except Arthur knew that it wasn’t, because it was his own coin. His own traitorous, good-for-nothing coin.
“Best out of three?” He tried, but Dom shook his head.
“Do I really offend you that much?” Eames snorted, leaning against the desk with a rather amused expression on his face. Of course he was enjoying this, Arthur thought angrily. The bastard had probably planned the whole thing.
“Come on, Arthur. Take one for the team.” Ariadne pleaded, “The mark needs to think his girlfriend is cheating on him. It’s the only way to provoke the right reaction.”
Arthur sighed loudly, feeling he was entitled to a bit of melodrama considering the position he had been forced into. “Fine. But you guys owe me.”
“Don’t act so hard-done by.” Dom mocked him, “You know I would do it if the coin had chosen me, without any complaining.”
“But it’s Eames!” Arthur countered reasonably.
Eames glowered, “And what does that mean?”
“Let’s just say, getting it on with you in a dream is not my idea of fun.”
“But it won’t be me.” Eames explained a little too patiently, “I’ll be forging a woman. Think of it as a completely ordinary hook up, with the added bonus of my delightful running commentary for the whole night.”
“I can’t wait.” Arthur answered sardonically.
“That’s the spirit!” Eames grinned, earning a dark look from the point man. “Seriously, no one is going to question your masculinity because of it.”
“Because they know that if they did I would shoot them.” Arthur muttered as a warning to the rest of the team, who seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. Ariadne legitimately had tears in her eyes.
“Violence is not necessary.” Eames stated disapprovingly, “Just consider it an extension of your experimental college phase.”
“I did not have an ‘experimental college phase’!” Arthur snapped, a little indignant, “And, please, tell me that you didn’t either.”
Eames shrugged, “Can’t remember all the details, to be honest. A lot of late nights and bad decisions.”
Arthur face-palmed.
It was too much and he felt exhausted. The whole morning had been dedicated to refining the plan but he had never expected the coin to betray him. In fact, during the preparation, Arthur had always imagined it being Dom who’d have to take on the role of the cheating girlfriend’s potential one night stand. But, of course, life never worked out the way you planned, and so Arthur would have to adjust to the idea he’d have to flirt with Eames – albeit as a forgery – and that idea scared him. For obvious reasons.
“Client’s here.” Came Yusuf’s voice from the adjacent room, seconds before an elegant tawny haired lady entered and approached them, a beatific smile curving her plump lips as she stretched out a hand to greet the team.
“How are things going?” She asked in a soft, American accent. She settled herself in a chair (Arthur’s chair – he had to stand) and gazed fondly at them all as if they were her friends and she was not paying them an exorbitant amount to persuade her childhood sweetheart to break up with his gold-digger girlfriend.
“We’ve made good progress, Miss Colton,” answered Dom, “Eames will be forging Miss Levinson.”
“Oh, how exciting!” She smiled in his direction.
“And Arthur will be playing the love interest.”
She turned her large green eyes to fully inspect Arthur, casting her gaze over the sharp line of his suit, before laughing throatily, “Yes, that will do very nicely, I should think.”
Arthur smiled tightly at her.
“The idea is to convince Mr Williams that Miss Levinson is cheating on him, so hopefully he carries some of that distrust into the real world and feels less infatuated.” Dom finished easily, stretching back against his chair as he clearly enjoyed the interactions, “We can’t guarantee his response, but it seems the most viable course of action.”
Miss Colton nodded, her green eyes turning serious, “And he won’t suspect a thing?”
“No. We get in, we get out. Nothing connects the experience to dreamshare.”
Miss Colton seemed reassured, and increased the voltage of her smile, “It’s a shame it’s come to this. I wish he’d believed me when I tried to warn him about her, but now I’m afraid it’s too late to talk any sense into him.”
“Well, we’ll do our best.” Dom nodded.
“Thank you.”
Miss Colton rose to leave, indicating that she was satisfied with the progress report. She flashed her smile around the room once more, before Dom escorted her out, explaining some of the finer details to her.
Ariadne turned to Arthur, “She likes you,” she teased.
Arthur rolled his eyes, “No, she doesn’t.”
“She was totally checking you out,” She giggled, turning to Eames for support, “Back me up here, will you?”
Eames blinked, pulled out of his thoughts, “Sorry?”
“Do you, or do you not, agree that Miss Colton has a little crush on our delightful Arthur here?” Ariadne prompted him, folding her arms in a manner that demanded an answer.
“Seems likely,” Eames agreed.
He accidentally caught Arthur’s eye, who dropped his gaze in embarrassment, and Eames stood up quickly. With some muttered excuse, he headed out the door, leaving Arthur and Ariadne staring after him.
Ariadne watched him go with an incredulous expression on her face and raised an eyebrow, “Someone’s jealous.”
Arthur frowned at her.
“It seems Eames quite fancies Miss Colton for himself.”
“She is… rather attractive,” Arthur allowed, and Ariadne let out a small yelp of victory.
“Yes!” She squealed, “I knew you liked her back. Oh, this is wonderful!”
“Need I remind you that she is paying us to effectively force a man into loving her? I think that may be a sign that she’s taken.” Arthur deadpanned as he scooped up his notepad and pens and shrugged on his coat, “I’m off to get lunch. What are you having?”
“Tuna panini, please.” Ariadne smiled brightly.
Arthur nodded and wandered into the adjoining room of the hotel suite.
“Lunch,” he called out, and within minutes everyone had placed their orders. As he was walking down to the elevator, he heard footsteps behind him. For a second, he tensed, his instincts reminding him sharply of the constant dangers of his choice of lifestyle, but then he recognised the other person and allowed himself to relax a little.
“Fancy some company?” Eames asked quietly, already falling into step.
“I’m not opposed to it.” Arthur replied with the ghost of a smile.
Eames pushed the button, summoning the elevator, and then stood with his hands in his pockets, slumped against the wall. His eyes were cast down and Arthur couldn’t help wonder why he was acting so reserved. Usually Eames enjoyed any opportunity to draw a reaction from the point man, and, considering this recent development, Arthur assumed he would have jumped at the chance to be inappropriate and annoying. But apparently not.
“You okay?” Arthur tried tentatively, the words tasting foreign on his tongue when addressing the forger. He waited for some kind of explanation, but Eames just stated in a very neutral tone that he was fine. So Arthur nodded, and felt relieved when the doors slid open and they could step into the lift, making some progress.
This appeared to have been a misjudgement on Arthur’s part though. As soon as the doors were sealed again, there seemed to be a change in the dynamics between them.
Arthur was inexplicitly aware of Eames’ presence, and, although the man kept a reasonable distance, he seemed closer. A lot closer.
Too close.
Arthur flinched when Eames shifted his position slightly. The forger cast him a questioning glance to which Arthur just smiled brightly while his heart trembled, swimming in a pool of adrenaline.
It was dark in the enclosed space and the machinery thrummed beneath their feet. The soft lightening glazed Eames’ cheekbones in gold and Arthur shivered, for no apparent reason. As the journey progressed Arthur felt himself getting more and more uncomfortable. The silence deepened and the distance became suffocating, and so it was with great relief that Arthur bolted from the elevator when it opened up in the lobby.
He strode out of the hotel and onto the busy San Franciscan streets, trusting Eames to follow if he wanted to. And he did, staying a pace or two behind Arthur the whole time. Arthur could sense him watching him, but he didn’t mind, because if Eames was watching him then at least no one else would be.
They entered the sandwich bar and Arthur placed the order while Eames read the food safety posters. Then he helped Arthur carry the food back to the hotel. They called down the elevator, stepped inside and took the journey up in silence. It was only just before they reached the suite’s door that Eames finally grabbed Arthur by the shoulder and forced him to stop.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with the job.” Eames spoke quickly, “If you don’t want to, then I understand, we could find some other way…”
“No.” Arthur cut him off forcefully, “The plan stays the same.”
Eames chewed at his lip, looking worried, so Arthur tried a reassuring smile. “We’re professionals, we’ll be fine. It’s only, like, first base.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Kissing, Eames. We’ll kiss, but that’s it.” Arthur laughed, “Don’t look so worried.”
Eames accepted it with a curt nod, stepping aside so Arthur could reach for the door.
The point man shook his head slightly, trying to work out when exactly Eames had become concerned for Arthur’s feelings. As he stepped over the threshold, announcing the arrival of the lunch order, it didn’t occur to Arthur, even for one second, that it was not his feelings Eames was trying to protect.
But he had never been, what you would call, the most observant of people.
The following week consisted of a lot of trial-runs, a lot of failure and a lot of shouting. Ariadne was insistent that even the messed-up gravity of a dream couldn’t stop Dom’s oversized chandelier from crashing onto the hotel’s dance floor below. He maintained that it would be fine, despite evidence of the contrary when it did indeed fall and crush several team members, who were not best pleased to have been awoken from the dream because a giant shard of sculpted glass had punctured their lungs.
Regardless of these setbacks, they were all set to go as soon as they hit the deadline. Miss Colton let them into Williams’ house after she’d dropped a sedative in his wine, and so he was already unconscious when they found him. Arthur deftly slipped the needle under his skin and, once Dom and Eames were ready, Ariadne sent them off into the dream.
They awoke in a ballroom.
It was magnificent. The ceiling towered over them, carved upwards as if it were pushing towards the sky. Gold lines ran like threads along the pillars, tracing the curve of the architecture, and glittering, tiny lights encircled Dom’s dominant chandelier.
Arthur found himself exhaling in awe as the bejewelled dancers circled around him. The music was soft and gentle, something Arthur recognised from his attempts to broaden his ghetto education, and it had a strong seductive pulse underneath the violas’ melody.
Arthur himself was dressed in a dark black suit, one of his own actually. It was perfectly tailored and the epitome of male elegance, if Arthur did say so himself, with a complementing bow tie. He adjusted the cuffs slightly and then took to prowling around the edge of the ballroom, interacting with any of the hotel guests he met with disdainful charisma.
Across the room, he could see Dom, resting against the bar with a cocktail in one hand and a thoughtful expression on his face as he chatted amiably with Mr Williams. Eames stood at the man’s side, dressed beautifully in a dusky purple evening dress that floated down to drift around her feet. She had one hand placed lightly on Williams’ arm, but her gaze was distracted, searching the ballroom for someone else. Her boyfriend kept trying to draw her into the conversation but she replied monosyllabically and angled her body away from him.
Arthur’s heart lurched and he edged closer to the group. He hovered near the bar and ordered a martini while trying to get Eames’ attention.
Maybe it was because of Yusuf’s special sedative, but the atmosphere was tinged with gold, like someone had attached a soft filter to a camera’s lenses. The impulse from the music crept more insistently into Arthur’s veins now and he quickly swallowed back the alcohol, finally catching Eames’ eye. She smiled softly at him, and inclined her head to indicate that Arthur should approach.
Arthur ordered two more martinis and then carefully made his way through the throng of people, being mindful not to spill a single drop. He stepped into the little gathering to Eames’ left, separating her from Williams, and then pressed the cocktail into her hand, earning himself a breathy laugh and a subdued word of thanks.
Dom motioned in his direction, “Have you met Mr Arthur? He owns half of Texas, when it suits him.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say half of Texas,” Arthur chuckled as he shook Williams’ hand, “Just the good parts.”
Williams laughed in response, “I hear there’s a lot of money under the ground there.”
Arthur nodded, assuming Williams’ was talking about oil, but he wasn’t really sure. “If my accounts are anything to go by, I’d have to agree with you, Mr…”
“Williams.” The older man filled in, flashing him a smile, “And this is my fiancé, Eliza Levinson.”
Arthur shared a shocked look with Dom. They hadn’t expected Williams’ subconscious to take such a liberty and Arthur wondered the damage this would have on the plan. As if on cue, Eames raised an elegant hand to display a large white diamond. Arthur recognised it from a job they’d worked together four years ago, and was slightly amused.
“Have you set the date?” Dom asked carefully.
“No, but hopefully quite soon.” Williams replied. His vagueness was a relief. It suggested that the idea was impulsive and not premeditated.
Dom sighed, “I was married once. It ended horribly.”
Arthur thought this rather an understatement, but he recognised Dom’s attempt to further persuade Williams’ against the idea of matrimony and so jumped on the bandwagon.
“I was engaged to this girl a few years ago, but it turned out she was only after my money,” Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, “And she was cheating on me.”
Williams looked horrified, “Oh, I’m sorry. What a shame.”
“It happens to the best of us.” Arthur smirked, then pointedly looked over at Eames, who played teasingly with a twisted coil of hair, “I love this song.” He paused, watching as she bit her lip, “May I have the pleasure of a dance?”
Eames let her smile loose and she gratefully swept past Williams to take Arthur’s hand.
“Of course,” She purred, refusing to even glance at Williams. Arthur felt himself strangely flattered.
They moved into the centre of the room and the music shifted, the notes scraping across each other in a very primal way, stretching and reverberating across the ballroom. Eames let her fingers trail along the planes of Arthur’s suit. Her eyes were wide and diluted, her focus was electric.
Arthur placed a warm hand on her waist and she leaned into the touch. Slowly, they began to move, rocking against each other as the music slowed and swayed around them. The music was different now, noticeably so, reflecting the feelings of the dreamer. Instead of light delicacy, there was a deep, gritty bass guitar and a gravelly male singer who murmured words of adoration into the microphone.
Arthur found himself getting lost in the experience. He tightened his grip on Eames and dared to dip her backwards a little, making her laugh as her balance was stolen. She reached up to Arthur and pulled herself upright, leaving her fingers clenched in his suit fabric.
She was very beautiful. Perhaps a little conventional, but still breath-taking. She wasn’t skinny, but her weight was distributed perfectly and she had poise, offering elegance that many women lacked. Truthfully, Arthur had never been so intimate with anyone like her before. She was stunning.
Eames pressed herself up against Arthur and the point man froze, breaking rhythm, as Arthur was painfully reminded of whom exactly it was in his arms, but Eames leaned closer, her lips brushing against his cheek as she whispered to him.
“Relax, darling.” She grinned cheekily at him, “Let’s make this look convincing.” With that, she pushed her thigh in between Arthur’s, and looked up at him through her lashes. Arthur inhaled sharply.
For a second, there was a flicker of fear in Eames’ eyes but Arthur didn’t push her away, and the moment passed. She started to stoke bold circles with her thumb over the hollow of Arthur’s shoulder, forcing their bodies even closer as Arthur sighed and relaxed into her touch.
She smelled good, like meadows and dusky woodland. He let his forehead rest against hers, never once looking away from Eames’ soft brown eyes. There was a faint flush over her cheekbones and her lips parted slightly. Eames looked happy, and it was contagious. A smile broke though Arthur’s controlled expression as they swayed together to the music.
“I think we better go.” Eames whispered, nodding over to where Williams was watching them. “We have an audience.”
Arthur swallowed, his throat dry, and once again he was reminded of their mission. “Okay.”
With one final glance back at Dom, Arthur lead Eames through the crowd with just enough purpose to make Williams suspicious, and just slow enough that they could be followed despite the head start.
Eames was still dancing even as she walked, her hips rocking to the insistent, drunken pulse of the music. She twirled around Arthur, forcing him into a quickstep for a few beats before releasing him and continuing her own dance. She looked vibrant and alive, her laughter came quickly and her hair was falling loose of its elegant braid. Arthur impulsively grabbed her hips and directed his own routine, pulling her into a faint representation of a tango, and grinning as Eames matched every step without missing a beat.
They had reached the edge of the floor now, and Arthur rushed her off and into the shadows. He counted the pillars to make sure they were at the prearranged location and then forced Eames back against the wall, kissing her roughly.
She retaliated, pushing him away before twisting so it was Arthur who was trapped by her. Arthur was surprised; this hadn’t been part of the plan, but he couldn’t protest for fear of ruining the charade.
Eames leaned closer and pressed her lips against Arthur’s. He opened his mouth and flicked his tongue across hers, eliciting a moan, which again took him by surprise. He dragged her hips to meet his and then rocked against her, knowing his actions would have to be over the top to catch William’s attention.
With that in mind, Arthur wrapped his arms around her delicate back, rubbing his palms over the exposed skin, before following the curve down to her arse. He tightened his grip and Eames gasped, turning red in embarrassment. Arthur smirked, and deepened the kiss.
It was getting quite desperate now. Fellow guests were attempting to avert their gaze, but the little noises Eames was making made it impossible to ignore them.
“Williams is coming.” Arthur muttered against her lips, spying the man stalking across the ballroom.
Eames blinked, seeming confused for a second, before drawing away, “Right. Let’s get out of here then.” She grinned wickedly at Arthur before spinning away.
Arthur kept his hand on her waist as they half ran to the exit, giggling like teenagers as the surrounding projections looked mortified at their behaviour. Impulsively, Arthur grabbed Eames one last time for a kiss before they reached the door, and then they were gone, sprinting through the corridors until they found the familiar hotel room and dashed inside.
“Quick,” Arthur said, breathless, as he kicked a gun under the bed. It was supposed to have been hidden beforehand, but for some reason the room was in slight disarray. The sheets of the large, plush bed were rumpled, and, on the drinks cabinet, a wine glass had been knocked over, spilling sweet, red liquid onto the granite surface.
Eames was peering through the crack in the door, “He’s coming.”
Arthur gave up on straightening up the room and shrugged off his suit jacket, flinging it across the back of a chair as he grabbed Eames again. This time, the kiss was sloppy and wild, high on adrenaline and fear. Arthur let his fingers tug at Eames’ dress, slipping his hand under to grab at her soft flesh. Eames grabbed his wrist, lightning fast, but the sound of William’s footsteps echoed in the hallway outside and she was forced to let it go.
Any second Williams should come bursting in.
Arthur moaned louder than he had intended as Eames squeezed his crotch, sending ripples of pleasure dancing through his blood. He bit hard at her lips to reprimand her but Eames only laughed and shifted closer.
It was crazy. The heat, the heady feeling of drunkenness, everything about the situation. Arthur was overwhelmed.
“Fuck,” Eames muttered as Arthur’s hand pressed between her thighs. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, and the sudden realisation made Arthur suddenly very hard. He ground his erection against her hip and Eames whimpered quietly into the kiss, which was yet to break off.
Arthur smiled, running his tongue along the edge of hers.
Then he noticed Williams, watching through the crack in the door. That was good, part of the plan, albeit a little distracting. The man looked appalled which was a promising sign.
Arthur lowered the kiss and mouthed along Eames’ décolletage, sucking bruises against the pale skin. “He’s here.” He whispered against her neck.
Eames’ eyes flew open, as if she had forgotten about Williams.
“Is he going to come in?” She breathed, clutching at Arthur’s lapels, rubbing her cheek against his, allowing further access to her throat.
“Let’s kick it up a notch.” Arthur muttered, reaching to slip off the shoulder straps of her beautiful gown. It fell loose too easily and then Eames was standing there, naked in this female body, while Arthur ran his hands along her sides, counting her ribs, tracing the curve of her backbones and then reaching up to twist his hands into her long, thick hair.
She sighed appreciatively and let herself be pulled closer, wrapping her soft body around Arthur’s hard, lean one.
“Still watching,” Arthur frowned, having thought that seeing his ‘fiancé’ naked with another man would be enough to provoke a reaction from Williams, but instead the man seemed stunned and unable to do anything but gawk in horror.
Eames didn’t seem to have heard him, but instead was greedily touching Arthur, rubbing her hands everywhere she could reach. She pulled off his shirt, a deviation from the plan, and sighed happily as Arthur’s corded, strong body was exposed.
“What are you doing?” Arthur whispered in alarm, but Eames ignored him, panting heavily, as she pressed open-mouthed kisses to his chest, following an invisible trail down his navel.
Arthur gasped as he was pushed back onto the bed. Eames straddled his thighs, rubbing against him insistently enough that Arthur had to clasp the sheets between his hands to stop him from reaching up to her.
“This is… this is too much.” Arthur ground out as a warning even as he arched up underneath her body.
Eames shook her head, looking desperate and scared and completely out of character. She leant down to kiss Arthur again, forceful and unrelenting like a person who had nothing left to lose.
Arthur considered pushing her away, but Williams was still watching and, to be honest, it felt… nice. Really, really good. And he was incredibly hard.
Arthur let himself relax and reached up to stroke her cheek in reassuring way, “It’s okay,” He whispered, “It’s alright.”
Suddenly, Eames rested her head against his chest for a moment, an unusually tender gesture amidst the lust. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.
Arthur trailed her hands along the smooth skin of her back, allowing her a moment to collect herself, before rolling her onto her back.
Eames’ eyes snapped open and she arched up to kiss him again. Her hands gripped at his shoulders painfully but Arthur didn’t mind.
“Oh God, Arthur. You have no idea.” Eames muttered in a breathless voice, “No idea.”
She spread her legs, inviting Arthur to settle between them. Her skin was sweat-slicked and her heart was beating erratically as she wriggled against the sheets. “Please, please, please.” She moaned, pushing the hair from her eyes so she could see Arthur clearly. Every shift of skin on skin was electric, and almost painful.
Arthur swallowed down any qualms he felt, consumed by desire for the squirming, delicate thing beneath him. He tugged down his trousers and slipped them off even as Eames reached up to wrap her legs around his torso.
“Fuck me.” She pleaded, directing his hips into alignment with her own, “Oh God, I want it.”
Arthur groaned as she guided his cock towards her pussy. He felt too sensitive, too overcharged to stop now. He didn’t even know if Williams was still by the door, or if he’d left. He didn’t care.
Eames cried out as he penetrated her, sinking deeper into the wetness between her legs. She bucked upwards and, this time, it was Arthur who moaned loudly as the feeling jolted up his cock.
“You’re so hot.” Arthur choked out as he drove harder against the tightness surrounding his dick. Eames threw her head back against the pillows. Her fingers scraped across his spine as she coiled taut beneath him and then released sharply, thrusting upwards to take Arthur even deeper.
They moved against each other, subtly shifting and changing to suit the needs of the other. Arthur enclosed Eames’ mouth in a kiss, pressing against her lips and letting their teeth clash without any finesse. It felt so raw, so primal, that Arthur couldn’t focus on anything other than the sensation of the body underneath him and the throbbing in his balls as every thrust took him closer to the edge.
Eames suddenly twisted them over, rolling out from underneath him before Arthur could react. She pressed down on him, settling her hands on his shoulder to pin him against the mattress as she arched her back and restarted the rhythm, teasingly allowing Arthur’s cock to slide close to her but not allowing him to penetrate her yet.
“Eames,” Arthur gasped as a wave of desire swept through his blood. He needed more skin, more contact, more friction. “Eames. Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
Eames kissed him messily, questioningly, and Arthur strained against the warmth that straddled him.
“No,” Arthur hissed, sliding his hands to cup her breasts briefly, his fingers skating over her nipples. “Not like this.”
Arthur tried to pinpoint the soundless frustration rushing over the surface of his skin, but Eames was mouthing at his neck, distracting him as she hovered above him, losing contact for a second. Her mouth was wet and soft but her lips were too thin and suddenly it hit Arthur, what was wrong. He wanted Eames.
“Drop her,” Arthur panted with limited coherency, pulling the female body closer, “Just you.”
There was a second where Arthur couldn’t feel anyone at all, and then it was Eames – in his own body – who was towering over Arthur, pressing joyful kisses to his neck, laughing quietly as Arthur gripped at his hair and pulled his mouth to meet his own. They rocked, hard, against each other and Arthur strained against the mass of muscle and warmth above him.
“Turn over,” Arthur whispered, pressing his fingers along Eames’ jaw as they shifted positions. Now Arthur had the other man on his back, his eyes wide and hopeful and his plump lips slightly parted. Arthur grinned wickedly and knelt down to whisper in Eames’ ear.
“If this is dream, do we need any lube?”
Eames burst out laughing, darting upwards to place a quick kiss to Arthur’s mouth. “I’m still pretty wet from the dear Miss Levinson’s body.”
Arthur frowned at him and swatted him on the shoulder. “No need for preparation then either,” he sniggered.
And Eames had no time to argue before Arthur sank his dick into Eames’ hole, pushing past the ring of tight muscles.
Eames inhaled sharply, but didn’t seem to be in pain, and, as he’d said earlier, he was still wet and sticky all around the inside of his thighs. He whimpered as Arthur thrust his over-sensitive cock deeper.
There was a growing heat at the back of Arthur’s balls and he pounded forward desperately. Eames reached down to frantically rub his own dick, murmuring filth the entire time. This was even better than before; each thrust was so tight, so electrifying. Eames was strong and solid and familiar and so perfect. Arthur couldn’t look away from him, marvelling at his beauty, as one hand came to rest on Arthur’s hips to encourage him to go faster.
“So close,” Eames whimpered, and Arthur could only choke out a strangled reply. His body felt on fire, like a fever was ripping through his veins. Eames looked just as debauched, his skin was soaked in sweat, his breathing was harsh and forced and, every time Arthur thrust against his prostate, Eames’ eyelids would half-flicker closed.
Suddenly, the door of the room burst open, and Arthur jumped in shock, even as he came, spilling into Eames’ arse as the Brit closely followed him into his own palm.
“What the fuck?” Dom yelled.
Arthur scrambled off Eames, wrapping himself in sheets, as hot embarrassment flooded his cheeks. Beside him, Eames had changed back into the forgery, as if her exposed body could cover up his own nakedness.
“I thought Williams had murdered you, you arseholes!” Dom had paled, but still looked angry, trying to look anywhere other than at the bed. “This is totally unprofessional…” he trailed off, appearing to be feeling slightly nauseated.
Arthur jumped out of the bed, tugging on his trousers and shirt, “Sorry, we got… carried away.”
Dom sighed, throwing both hands up in surrender, “You don’t say.” He muttered sarcastically, tossing Eames’ dress back to her, not being mindful of the expensive and delicate fabric. “The kick will come soon.” He flinched at his choice of words before withdrawing from the room with a pained expression on his face.
Arthur turned to Eames, running a hand through his hair. His breathing was slowing now; his blood was redistributing itself to other parts of his aching body.
Eames blushed, slipping the soft fabric over herself. “Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Arthur repeated in confusion, “For what?”
Eames looked broken, gesturing vaguely at the bed, “For all this. For tricking you.”
Arthur snorted, “I knew what I was doing, believe me.”
“You were turned on. You weren’t thinking straight.” Eames muttered, locating her shoes without meeting Arthur’s eye.
“Eames,” Arthur stepped forward and grasped her arm, forcing her to look at him, “I never had an ‘experimental college phase’ because I already knew I was gay.”
Eames stared at him, open mouthed, “You what?”
“I’m gay.” Arthur said, feeling slightly embarrassed, “Miss Levinson was the first women to turn me on since I was a teenager, and that’s only because it was you.”
Eames continued to gawp.
“Close your mouth, Eames.” Arthur snorted, turning away as he shrugged on his jacket, “Don’t be so uncouth.”
This made Eames laugh and she slowly slid back to her natural form, releasing the last of his barriers in time to the opening bar of Edith Piaf.
“Why did you act so horrified at the start?” Eames asked curiously, tentatively reaching out to cup Arthur’s jaw in his hands, “I thought you were straight.”
“I thought you were.” Arthur muttered as he pressed a soft kiss to Eames’ mouth. “Didn’t want to scare you.”
“Hmm,” Eames agreed, “You do scare me, but in a good way. An erotic way.”
“Shut up, you idiot,” Arthur laughed as they kissed again, and they rode the kick back up to reality.