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When Eames came home, Arthur was nowhere to be seen.
His shoes were there, however, so Eames pulled off his own and padded into the kitchen on stocking feet, wanting to surprise Arthur.
Arthur wasn’t in the kitchen, though.
Eames frowned, because usually, this time of day, Arthur would be sitting at the kitchen island, drinking coffee (which Eames had told him was bad for him so late in the day, but Arthur being Arthur hadn't listened, just arched his eyebrow and licked some foam off his upper lip and ok, maybe Eames had been too distracted then to argue his point further).
Eames sighed, because if Arthur was in the study, then Eames would probably not see a lot of him for the rest of the day and, if he was especially unlucky, the night.
He walked up the flight of stairs, but the study door stood open (very unusual for Arthur, who preferred to work in silence) and right, when he stuck his head around the door frame, the chair was empty, the computer switched off.
Maybe Arthur was in the bedroom?
Arthur never slept during the day if he could help it, not even after travelling for 24 hours, so Eames didn't really expect Arthur to be there when he pushed the door open.
The bedroom was untouched, just as he'd thought.
White sheets against the dark headboard, because Arthur had picked the furniture in here.
Eames had scattered the bed with colourful pillows and there was a quilt lying on top of the duvet that he’d bought on a street market in Mombasa once. Arthur always complained about the pillows breaking up the simple design of the room, but then, he always stole one or two during the night, so Eames figured it was ok.
Eames trudged down the stairs again, looking into the living room once more, although he was sure Arthur would have come out to greet him or at least called out a Hello by now.
Then, Eames’s gaze dropped to the sofa and he saw - Arthur’s suit. Neatly laid out, everything perfectly in order, but undeniably the suit that Arthur had worn when he’d left the house that morning.
Usually, when Arthur came home, it took him a while to change into comfortable clothing.
He’d take off the jacket and shoes when he entered the house (Arthur was very strict about his ‘no-shoes-inside’ rule). During his coffee and paper time, he’d take off his tie and toe off his socks very slowly, almost absent-mindedly. Eames found this process to be absolutely mesmerizing every day.
When Eames started to cook dinner, Arthur would often get his laptop and do some more work, casually flipping open his shirt buttons while he did so.
During summer, when Arthur wouldn’t be wearing a vest beneath his shirt, this was so distracting that Eames had burnt himself quite a few times in the past because he was watching Arthur instead of the stove. Finally, Arthur would get up, bring his laptop back upstairs and come to join Eames in the kitchen, now wearing pyjama bottoms and usually a t-shirt or, if it was cold outside, a ratty old sweater that most certainly belonged to Eames. After dinner, Arthur took out his contacts and put on his glasses, hair at this point mostly free of gel.
Secretly, Eames considered witnessing Arthur slowly change from one persona into the other one of the biggest perks of living with him. Right after the mind-blowing sex of course.
There was really only one place left where Arthur could be. Eames quietly walked through the living room and peered through the glass door that connected it to the conservatory. He hadn’t expected Arthur to be in here, since they mostly used the room to have drinks with Ariadne and Yusuf when they happened to be in town.
Now, however, Arthur was lying stretched out on one of the lawn chairs, wearing not a stitch of clothing. Eames took a second to thank the heavens that their back garden was separated from their neighbours’ by a high, thick hedge. Then his mind truly caught up with his eyes.
Arthur was on his back, eyes closed, arms behind his head. The headphones and the slight tapping of Arthur’s foot showed he wasn’t asleep, but merely listening to music.
Eames stared for a few more seconds, physically unable to look away, then, very slowly, he opened the glass door.
Arthur didn’t stir and Eames realized once again how lucky he was, how fortunate that this man, the best point man in the entire business, deadly both in dreams and up above, was so used to his, Eames’s presence that nothing about him - his smell, the sound of his breathing - alerted him anymore.
Had anyone else tried to sneak in here, Eames was sure Arthur would’ve had them on the floor by now. And wasn’t that an image to behold, a naked, fighting Arthur?
Eames felt his cock stir and inched the door open further until he could slip through.
Thanks to Arthur’s no-shoes rule, he could walk up to Arthur carefully and drop to his knees in front of him in one smooth, soundless motion. Arthur didn’t open his eyes until the first gust of breath teased over his soft cock. Then, he slowly blinked them open, making Eames think he had had been noticed right away, Arthur just hadn’t bothered to get up or even tense up. Eames was flattered. He grinned up at Arthur from underneath his lashes, blowing more air over Arthur’s cock, which was definitely taking an interest. Arthur’s eyes dropped closed again, so Eames just went for it, poking his tongue out and teasing it over Arthur’s balls. The physical reaction this caused was...gratifying.
Eames took Arthur, who was fully hard now, in hand and licked a long, wet stripe up the entire length, circling the head once and then plunging down. Perhaps it wasn’t the most technically accomplished blowjob, but it certainly had Arthur gasping within minutes.
Eames felt a hand tangle in his hair and smiled around Arthur in his mouth. A few seconds later, he felt Arthur tugging his hair. He eased off a bit, looking up in question, but Arthur had his head turned to the side, headphones dislodged and dangling off the chair, a faint blush high on his cheeks. Eames wondered about that until Arthur raised his hips ever so slightly. Oh .
They had done this a few times, Eames using his tongue to loosen Arthur up. It had always been Eames who initiated it, though, Arthur blushing furiously, squirming as if unsure whether to try and get away from the sensation, or to push his arse right into Eames’s face to get more.
Eames grinned and lowered his head, first gently sucking on Arthur’s balls, then slowly, very slowly sliding his tongue further down. He circled Arthur’s hole with the tip, becoming aware of the breathless sounds Arthur was making. The circles got smaller and smaller until finally, Eames’s tongue was prodding against Arthur’s hole directly, coaxing it to relax for him.
Arthur had one hand clenched in Eames’s hair still, the other arm thrown up over his eyes.
Eames redoubled his efforts, letting his tongue slip in a little deeper and a little deeper still.
When he was satisfied with how wet and open the muscle fluttered in front of him, he pulled back entirely. Arthur’s sound of protest turned into a gasp when Eames pushed his tongue in as far as it would go, only to withdraw it again. He waited for a beat so Arthur could catch his breath, then thrust back in, setting up the same rhythm as if he’d been fucking Arthur.
Arthur was groaning freely now, sounding completely helpless. Eames loved him impossibly.
He reached up and Arthur’s cock basically jumped right into his hand.
So eager , Eames thought fondly. He would have said it as well, but yeah, his mouth was a little occupied at the moment.
It took him maybe five strokes until Arthur came, hard, twisting as if trying to push into Eames’s hand and mouth at the same time.
Eames let go of Arthur’s cock but continued to rub the flat of his tongue lazily against Arthur’s hole until Arthur pulled on his hair hard enough to persuade him to come up.
The kiss Arthur gave him was filthy , thrusting his tongue in Eames’s mouth in much the same way that Eames tongue had just thrust into Arthur’s arse.
“You,” Arthur ground out when he eventually had to come up for air.
“Me,” Eames agreed cheerfully, feeling like every single thing was right with the world.
“I take it you liked that then, Darling?”
Arthur gave him a look that, under normal circumstances, would have been an impressive glower. Right now, he simply looked too fucked out for it to be very effective.
Eames continued to smile until Arthur huffed and raised a hand to trace Eames lips, almost wonderingly.
“Your turn,” he said softly, somewhere in between a statement and a question.
“Mmh, actually, I’d be more than happy to wait until you can go again,” Eames said with the most suggestive grin he could muster. “If you promise to sit on my face before you fuck me.”