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Eames stumbled into the kitchen, a hand cupped over his morning wood to stop its heavy sway against the front of his sweatpants. He groaned deep in his throat, his eyes narrowing approvingly at the long bared legs exposed below the hem of the oversized sweater Arthur wore. He scratched his balls through the sweatpants, ambling over with a cocky gait to where Arthur stood before the stove.
The younger man’s dark hair was tousled and fucked out, milky skin with a map of dark freckles exposed by the slouchy neckline. He was pushing bread about in a pan, eggs happily hissing in perfectly round holes cut through the middle of each slice.
Eames sidled up behind Arthur, humming appreciatively his fingers hooking into the neckline on either side of the younger man’s body, drawing the soft sweater down to expose one finely boned shoulder. He dipped his head, letting the tip of his nose trail up the elegant line on Arthur’s neck before letting his lips drag up the same path.
Arthur moaned contentedly, his head canting to the side to give Eames more room to work, the larger man’s lips curling into a pleased smirk at his small success. He kissed the pointman’s shoulder, his tongue darting hot against the silky skin there. He nipped at Arthur’s throat when the other man’s breath caught as Eames dragged the neckline down even further to flick the side of his thumb over Arthur’s nipple.
"Eames," he gasped, his hips canting back to rub against Eames’ happy prick.
"I love this sweater," Eames whispered wickedly into Arthur’s ear, catching the lobe with the tip of his tongue as he snaked one arm about Arthur’s slim waist and pulled him closer with a hand pressing against that taut belly. "Think I’d rather love to fuck you in it before breakfast."
Arthur’s head fell back against Eames’ shoulder with a grunt when the Englishman began rubbing his thick fingers over his waking cock. “No chance in hell,” he said, his voice shaky but tone non-negotiable. “This sweater was three hundred dollars and it took me three months to get it in the right color…keep your semen away from it.”
Eames chuckled, feeling what the rough sound did to Arthur’s state of arousal. He pushed the straining neckline did even further to rub the back of his short nails down the middle of Arthur’s stomach until the other man was shivering. “Take it off then, but get that sweet ass into the bedroom while I put this away. You’re gonna want something soft to brace yourself on for what I plan to do to you.”
"Right away, Mr. Eames," Arthur said drolly, letting Eames pull the sweater off of him until he was standing in his tight briefs. Eames reached out to spank one round firm cheek, Arthur tossing a sly grin over his shoulder before padding back to the bedroom.
Eames turned off the burner and moved the pan into the oven. He held up the soft sweater, lamenting he wouldn’t be able to have Arthur while the youth wore the soft navy fabric. Shit- Eames tossed a look towards the doorway to make sure Arthur was gone before carefully examining the stretched and uneven neckline. He was going to die for stretching the fucking thing, might as well go make the most of his last few moments on Earth.