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There are many things Arthur loves about sex with Eames: the delicious burn that comes with the first push of Eames’ thick cock stretching him open, the feel of Eames’ hands gripping tight and possessive on his hips and leaving finger-shaped bruises that will last for days, the way Eames pins him down without an inch of give so all Arthur can do is take it and take it and beg him for more.
But the part that comes after might be his favorite, when everything is soft and fuzzy at the edges, and Eames’ hands are warm on his body while Arthur stretches languidly, feeling fucked open and perfectly content and all slick and messy with Eames’ come inside him.
Arthur shifts on the sheets and spreads his legs as Eames slips his hand down between Arthur’s thighs.
“You’re so wet,” Eames says as he runs his fingers through the mess of lube and come dripping down his legs.
“Yeah,” Arthur says with a happy sigh.
Eames braces himself on one hand and leans in to press his mouth to Arthur’s neck. “How about you let me lick you clean?” he says, his lips soft and hot against Arthur’s skin.
Arthur’s head is still too fuzzy from his orgasm for him to argue, but he manages what he thinks is a very serious frown until Eames chuckles softly and rubs his thumb over Arthur’s mouth.
“You’re so pretty when you pout, darling.”
Arthur starts to object, but then Eames slides two fingers into Arthur, pushing his come back inside, and Arthur can only groan and spread his legs wider so Eames can press in a little more. Eames’ fingers are thick, but Arthur’s loose and open after a very thorough fucking, and wet and dripping with come, and Eames adds a third finger with no resistance.
“I don’t need you to clean me up,” Arthur says breathlessly. “I like it just like this.”
“How about this?” Eames asks, his fingers moving slow and relentless inside him. “You let me eat you out until you come with my tongue in your arse, and then when you’re so far gone you can’t even beg for my cock, I’ll fuck you again, fill you up, leave you full of my come, just the way you like.”
“Mmm, tempting,” Arthur says, rocking his hips against Eames’ hand. “But I’m not convinced you can deliver on that promise.”
Eames huffs and pulls his fingers out. “Just because I’m not twenty anymore doesn’t mean I can’t get it up again.”
“Eames, you’re not thirty anymore,” Arthur says, and grins when Eames smacks him on the leg.
Eames pushes Arthur’s thigh up to his chest, spreading him wide open, and shoves his fingers back in, rubbing his prostate until Arthur is gasping and clutching at the sheets. “Maybe not,” Eames says, his voice pitched low in the way that makes something curl up hot and tight in Arthur’s chest. “But I can still make you scream.”
“You gave me what I wanted,” Arthur says, fighting to keep some semblance of composure. “And now you’re trying to take it back.”
Eames pushes his leg higher until Arthur can feel the burn in his thighs, and he drapes himself over Arthur, leaning in and nudging his nose against Arthur’s. “You’re a filthy little slut, you know that?”
Arthur is spread out and stretched open, pinned to the bed under Eames’ weight with Eames’ breath hot against his mouth, and it’s everything he wants. “You love it,” he whispers and tilts his face up, pressing his lips to Eames’.
Arthur moans into Eames’ mouth, opening for his tongue, and wrapping one arm around Eames’ neck to pull him closer. Arthur’s strung out already from so much sensation, and when Eames’ stubble scrapes roughly against his cheek, he gasps, breaking the kiss.
“Do it,” Arthur says, and the words are hardly out of his mouth before Eames flips him over and yanks him up at the hips, pulling his thighs apart.
Eames digs his thumbs into Arthur’s ass, spreading him open. “Look at you,” Eames says with something like reverence in his voice. “Such a lovely mess.”
“Please, Eames,” Arthur begs, shoving his hips back shamelessly, and he doesn’t care that a few minutes ago he was arguing against this, right now he just wants.
Eames’ tongue is soft and wet, and it feels good on Arthur’s tender skin. Eames holds him wide open and licks over his hole again and again, then pushes in, his tongue sliding easily in the slick mess of Arthur’s ass. Arthur’s trembling all over, and when he tries to beg for more all he can do is moan into the pillow, but it doesn’t matter because Eames’ strong arms are holding him open, holding him up, giving him everything he needs.
Arthur is close, and Eames hasn’t even gone near his cock. When Eames slides two fingers into Arthur and spreads them apart, pushing his tongue between them, Arthur comes all over the sheets, shuddering as Eames licks him through it.
Eames lets him down gently, releasing his grip on Arthur’s thighs and lowering him to the bed. He’s lying in the sticky mess of his own come, but Arthur doesn’t care about anything except the familiar weight of Eames’ body pressing him to the bed and the warmth of Eames’ breath on his neck.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” Eames murmurs, linking his fingers with Arthur’s.
Eames nudges his cock against Arthur’s hole, and Arthur's so wet and and ready for anything Eames wants to give him. Eames slides in with one easy push, and Arthur’s nerve endings are all lit up and he feels split wide open, but it’s so good, so perfect with Eames holding Arthur down and filling him up.
Eames fucks him hard, driving Arthur into the bed with every thrust, and Arthur can’t move, he can’t even tilt his hips up to meet him, so he just squeezes Eames’ hand and holds on. It doesn’t take long before Eames’ hips start jerking in short uneven thrusts, and a moment later, he groans into the back of Arthur’s neck, digging his fingers into Arthur’s hip and coming hot and wet inside of him.
Eames pulls out slowly, making an apologetic sound when Arthur hisses in discomfort. Arthur feels sore and sticky and exhausted and just exactly right. He flops down on his back, barely able to move out of the wet spot, and Eames curls up on one elbow and looks down at him.
“I love how much you love my come inside you,” Eames says, and Arthur can’t help the soft noise that escapes him when Eames’ fingers brush over his hole yet again. “Yeah, I bet you’re sore, but you love that, too, don’t you?”
Arthur’s half asleep already, but he forces his eyes open. He’s totally fucked out, and he can feel Eames’ come start to drip out him and down along the crease of his thigh. “Eames,” he whispers hoarsely, and that’s all he can manage.
Eames smiles at him and pulls Arthur’s back to his chest, curling around him and pushing his come back into Arthur with two fingers and holding them still. “I know.”
Arthur sighs and settles back against Eames’ chest. It’s warm and familiar, and he falls asleep just like that, with Eames’ arms wrapped around his chest, and Eames’ fingers holding his come deep inside.