rageprufrock: beach (Default)
[personal profile] rageprufrock
And that story was going to go into the category of my writing that is called, "I made up some plot to wrap feebly around this PWP, here have some jizz," (See: Girlfriend Experience, DRP sextras, et al) but then LAST WEEK happened and I came home and did the mental equivalent of yelling, "Fuck this noise!" and flipping over a table so now I am just going to throw this out there, unwrapped with plot, because I am too tired to write down the (seriously feeble) one I came up with.

Eames used to think a long fuck was an hour, when at the end of it his hips are sore and he's got a fucking charley horse and everybody's gasping for air and dying for oxygen — he didn't know shit.

Fucking Arthur is a profoundly humbling experience, because he's pretty sure that ever since he walked into the warehouse this morning, they've been engaged in foreplay, but his judgment can't be trusted since all of his blood is in his dick. Normally, in these circumstances, he'd check with Arthur, but Arthur's been lounging with uncharacteristic, languid self-indulgence on the one couch in the space, his hair a wreck and the faint hint of a bruise showing over the perfect starched collar of his shirt, his body loose like an invitation, and every time Eames looks in his direction his mouth goes dry and he just wants to get up between Arthur's perfect thighs and slide his dick right back in, where he knows Arthur is hot, and wet and fucked-open and soft already.

After lunch — Ariadne brings them take out — Arthur vanishes into the bathroom, coming back nearly purring, and Eames squirms in his seat and then fucking squirms harder when Arthur slides a sheet of paper over to him, fingertips leaving wet dots on the corner.

"Arthur come on, you're getting water on my sketches," Ariadne sighs, wiping at it with her scarf, and the way Arthur murmurs, "sorry about that," and stares at Eames the entire time is enough for Eames to know that is not fucking water. The problem is exacerbated when Arthur manages to find an excuse to slide two of his fingers over his mouth, just nursing on them, lavish and content.

It's half-two by the time Eames trusts himself to send Arthur an email from across the room saying, "darling you're a filthy fucking slut," and Arthur writes back a half-beat later, "It's not my fault you were still leaking out of me."


The first couple of weeks after Arthur had finally condescended to fuck him, Eames felt like he was being backed over by a lorry on an hourly basis — a lorry filled with sex.

It's like seeing the black and forbidding skin of a volcano and touching the surface to be engulfed in flames: Arthur doesn't have a lick of sexual modesty, zero shame, just a wide-open greediness that brings Eames to his knees. Arthur wants to try everything, and then he wants to do it again. Arthur wants to kiss for hours, rub Eames off in the backseats of cars, make sure Eames wakes up with his cock down Arthur's throat, so Arthur's gagging on it, choking on spunk until it pours over his lips and down the white column of his throat. He wants to ride Eames's face, let Eames eat him out until he's wet and dripping and begging, incoherent. And then worse, most tremendously cruel and demanding of all, Arthur wants to get up and put on his tailored shirts and bespoke three-piece suits, and button it all up and down, hidden away from view, so that Eames has to look at him, the lissom turn of his hips all day, and know that underneath the trousers there's still a line of drying spunk down the inside of Arthur's thigh.

"I thought I said if you couldn't keep it professional, don't," Cobb says to him.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Eames lies, and Cobb squints at him; he hates it when Cobb wanders into his line of sight to destroy the well-heeled Victorian erotica that is Arthur doing differential equations on the whiteboard with rolled-up sleeves. Eames is cognizant that he's developing some seriously fucked up fetishes.

Cobb rolls his eyes. "Your pen exploded all over your mouth about 10 minutes ago."

"Shit," Eames says.

That night, Arthur won't let Eames come anywhere near his clothes, citing treacherous and still lingering touches of ball-point pen all over him. Eames has never been one for watching when he's in close enough proximity to touch, but there's something about the way Arthur's so fucking casual with his $17,000 of menswear, the way he takes off his tie, his fingers trailing down the line of buttons, that makes Eames ache.

"There's no way you're ruining that suit," Arthur says, breathless already, his cock hard and leaving a wet spot Eames can see on the crotch of his heather-gray briefs. "I endured so much sexual harassment for that suit."

"Tell me all about it, love," Eames says, wishing he could put his mouth over the tip of Arthur's cock through the cloth, just suck him slow and savoring, little kitten licks, until he had one of those orgasms that felt like succumbing to sleep: intense, and dreamy and good. "I'll go kick their arses."

Arthur laughs, undoes the cuffs of his shirt now, too, so he's standing in his briefs and his button-down, fringe in his face, making him look so young that it just layers another element of the delicious to it.

"There were a lot of hands in my inseam, Eames," Arthur says, eyes gleaming, and he hooks his thumbs along the waist of the briefs and starts to drag them down his legs. "Fingers stroking up the split in the back — Bernard, the tailor, dragged his thumb right over — "

"Christ," Eames declares, and tackles him to the carpet.

He wrenches Arthur's legs open — leaving dark blue smears from the pen ink on those soft, white thighs, and Eames wants to bite them, leave teeth marks, leave Arthur ruined so everybody knows it — and Arthur laughs and tries to stop him, but not very much. Not at all when Eames growls at him, swearing Welsh swears under his breath and spits on his fingers, pushes the luxe weave of the cotton out of the way so he and shove them into Arthur, nails scraping, a little. Arthur hisses, legs tightening around Eames's chest, and Eames can't help but say, "You were asking for it, you fucking tease," and fucks him harder, vicious, with three fingers on the dry drag of skin until Arthur's heartbeat skitters — Eames can feel it from the inside out — and he punches the orgasm out of him and Arthur actually shouts, and the sudden shock of it must hurt a little.

He leaves Arthur on the floor to go find the lube, and then when he comes back he makes sure Arthur's soaking with it, the hot, pink clutch of him already fucked open, exhausted, and Eames takes the time to chase all the pearly, sticky strings of jizz down from Arthur's white belly and behind the soft skin of his perineum, rubs it into his hole.

"There's a love," he coos, and presses his cock in, easy, and Arthur's so warm and wet and oversensitive, his arse still twitching, and every stroke must feel like a scrape of teeth over his cock, but Arthur is so good at taking it Eames can't resist, just fucks into him, greedy and careless, loving the sticky slap of skin and the way Arthur's sac feels — wet and spent — at the apex of his groin when he shoves in.

Arthur just stretches into it, rolls his hips into it, pants, "Eames, Eames," claws his fingernails into Eames's forearms, braced on the carpet, mouth wet and red and wanting.

"God, you're so fucking sloppy around me," Eames says, spewing bullshit at this point, gone right past erotically flirtatious into degrading. "Fucking love your cunt — fucking you open. Love using you up — " he braces himself on an elbow, stroking his hand down Arthur's chest, breathing hot against his mouth " — could I make you come for me again, darling? So soon? Would it hurt?"

Arthur moans. "Already hurts," he says, but his hands are an iron grip searing half-moon cuts into Eames's shoulders.

"Didn't sound like a no, darling," Eames says, and reaches down to where they're joined up, slick and semen and sweat making it halfway impossible to get any traction, but he slides two fingers in along with his cock and fucks Arthur with those, too, chanting, "Come on, do it — yeah — do it, let me feel you," until Arthur makes a noise like he's dying and his whole body seizes up until Eames thinks his dick is going to come off.

It takes them an hour to relocate to the bed — there's an enormous and obvious wet-spot on the hotel carpet — and Eames gets enough cognitive function back to ask, "Did you come?"

Arthur, sprawled out on his stomach, laughs, a little crazy. "I don't fucking know — but that was amazing."

"We'll chalk it up as a win," Eames decides, and passes out.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 08:05 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] fruiter

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 08:27 am (UTC)
not_sally: Made for me! (Default)
From: [personal profile] not_sally
Pru, and I mean this as sincerely as I possibly can with my only remaining functioning neuron, DO FEEL FREE to keep posting as many plot-less snippets of would-be-fic as you motherfucking want.


(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 08:28 am (UTC)
delirante: (Mal from Inception)
From: [personal profile] delirante
This was, without a doubt, one of the hottest PWP I have read in this fandom....just wow....

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 08:49 am (UTC)
dodificus: (Default)
From: [personal profile] dodificus
Definitely chalk this up as a win. Filthy porn is filthy:O

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 08:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] romyra.livejournal.com
yes please.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 09:06 am (UTC)
feikoi: steve/tony manip by objectivelyp1nk :D (Default)
From: [personal profile] feikoi
This catagory of your writing has a theme song in my head and it starts with BEAUTIFUL DIRTY DIRTY RICH :P yeah totally feel free to post anything at anytime, plot or no plot. Wow, this was filthy hot.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 09:28 am (UTC)
lian: Klavier Gavin, golden boy (Default)
From: [personal profile] lian
oh, yeah. I love your anatomically correct filth! ♥

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 09:59 am (UTC)
poala: A drawing by Wufei_w of two of our dearest friends having a cuddle party (Default)
From: [personal profile] poala
Oh god! I love your dirty filthy mind

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 10:17 am (UTC)
anatsuno: a naked woman lies in bed with a book (porn)
From: [personal profile] anatsuno
It's so much fun when you flip mental tables over! All the dlicious filth hiding underneath rising to light for our feasting minds, mmmm. Thank you.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 10:32 am (UTC)
remula: (Default)
From: [personal profile] remula
OMFG! *______*

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 11:43 am (UTC)
toby: (SEX)
From: [personal profile] toby

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 11:57 am (UTC)
kiki_eng: two bats investigating plants against the night sky (Default)
From: [personal profile] kiki_eng
...I think that might be some of the most joyful porn I've ever read.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 02:40 pm (UTC)
xenakis: (rdjyesplz)
From: [personal profile] xenakis
"We'll chalk it up as a win," Eames decides, and passes out.

That pretty much sums it up, yeah. *guh*
Edited (coding typo) Date: 2010-10-09 02:42 pm (UTC)

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 04:37 pm (UTC)
samjohnsson: It's just another mask (Default)
From: [personal profile] samjohnsson
Writing like that? Damn the plot, full steam ahead!

(Consider it an appreciation vignette of the sexual dynamic between the boys and frame it within the plot of the meta-narrative. ^^ )

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 04:37 pm (UTC)
zephre: Pink lotus in evening light, at Longwood Gardens. (Default)
From: [personal profile] zephre
a win, a definitely win! *fans self* amazing!

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 08:32 pm (UTC)
beachlass: red flipflops by water (Default)
From: [personal profile] beachlass
Oh God, my fucking toes are curling.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-09 11:03 pm (UTC)
sliad89: i'm not anti-social, i'm just not user friendly (Default)
From: [personal profile] sliad89
Um, I have no words. Mother of God that was hot. Must now get ready for work...long, cold shower first?!

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-10 02:44 am (UTC)
bkwyrm: (Default)
From: [personal profile] bkwyrm

That, um, doesn't even need an attempt at a plot. It's like a perfect solitaire jewel of porn.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-10 04:56 am (UTC)
greyeyes: (Default)
From: [personal profile] greyeyes
I support this entry!


(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-10 05:33 am (UTC)
snottygrrl: young men kissing (boy kiss by the fabu hermette)
From: [personal profile] snottygrrl
excuse me, i need some alone time now. addslhgs;gkfhkjgf

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-10 08:39 am (UTC)
missmollyetc: By nanjarohoihoi (Default)
From: [personal profile] missmollyetc
Sweet baby Jesus, this is hot.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-10 09:39 am (UTC)
ceares: cookie all grown up (Default)
From: [personal profile] ceares
um yeah, that is so very hot and so gorgeously decadently filthy

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-11 09:12 am (UTC)
terribilita: (question everything)
From: [personal profile] terribilita
holy. fuck.

You asked us to comment here so....

Date: 2010-10-11 11:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] zeto.livejournal.com
This is....just. Absolutely. Holy. Fuck.


(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-12 12:23 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] niccy07
You ever think about directing porn? 'Cause seriously, I will be your NUMBER 1 customer. This is PURE orgasm on a plat. *passes out*

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-15 03:59 am (UTC)
fiercynn: Isabella with a sword [from Galavant] (Default)
From: [personal profile] fiercynn
okay, obviously this is really really fucking hot and that is probably the most obvious point to be made about it, but I also just wanted to say that your writing is brilliant as always and thus, this is my favorite sentence EVER:

he hates it when Cobb wanders into his line of sight to destroy the well-heeled Victorian erotica that is Arthur doing differential equations on the whiteboard with rolled-up sleeves. Eames is cognizant that he's developing some seriously fucked up fetishes.

"well-heeled Victorian erotica", indeed. Never stop with your fucked up fetishes, Eames. NEVER.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-19 10:47 pm (UTC)
velvetine: (Default)
From: [personal profile] velvetine
OH HOLY GOD. That was ridiculous and intense. *______*

(no subject)

Date: 2010-10-28 06:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] airgiodslv.livejournal.com

Yeah, no, I think you killed off my higher cognitive function there, too. This is absolutely delicious, and I personally am thoroughly delighted that you just decided to post it. Hedonistic, shameless Arthur may be my new favourite thing. In the world.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-11-03 10:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] labseraph.livejournal.com
The fuck??

*topples from extreme hotness*

(no subject)

Date: 2010-12-08 06:23 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
MOFG that was hot. I have lost the use of 99% of my vocabulary.

(no subject)

Date: 2011-07-28 10:00 pm (UTC)
v_greyson: (Default)
From: [personal profile] v_greyson
this is ridiculously hot and i really enjoyed reading it!

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