Eames has to admit that he's beginning to develop a real fetish for a fully dressed Arthur on his knees with Eames' cock in his mouth. And Arthur's mouth is perfect: hot and wet and with a clever, clever tongue that just knows where to lick and tease. Just like he knows how to suck, not just Eames cock but also Eames' balls. A clever tongue and a talented mouth.
He has a hand wrapped around Arthur's neck, his fingers buried in the dark hair, but Eames keeps his hold light, no pressure, no guidance, because Arthur knows what he's doing and Eames likes it when Arthur sets the pace.
Occasionally he thinks about tightening his grip, changing the pace and forcing Arthur to follow his lead, maybe even force him to deep-throat, because there is this appeal of fucking Arthur's mouth, burying his cock so deep in Arthur's throat that he has no choice but to swallow everything Eames has to give, but that would deprive him of another pleasure and so far that one has always won out.
So instead of using his grip to force his cock down Arthur's throat Eames just changes it so that he can rub his thumb over Arthur's cheekbone and then lower to where Arthur's lips are stretched around his cock.
Eames pushes his thumb with his cock into Arthur's mouth and moans when Arthur's clever, clever tongue flicks along it. He moans again when Arthur pulls back and his cock pops free while Arthur sucks his thumb, focusing all his incredible focus and attention on it, swallowing around it. There's the hint of teeth and Arthur's dark eyes are alight with heat and want and lust. Eames wants to reach for his totem to see if this is really reality and not some wild, incredible and unbelievable dream. He wants to freeze time, to stay like this forever.
He shivers when Arthur releases his thumb and turns his attention back to his cock, long licks up its length, flicks around the head and a wicked grin before his mouth once again closes around Eames' cock and he begins to suck, driving Eames closer and closer to the edge.
"Close. Arthur." Eames uses the grip he still has on Arthur's hair to pull him back, because this, this is what Arthur wants and as hard as it is and as much as he wants to bury himself in that lovely tight wet heat, he can't deny Arthur anything he asks for.
He pulls Arthur's head farther back and grins when he meets Arthur's gaze, the dark eyes watching him with barely contained longing and excitement. With his other hand around his cock Eames jerks himself, it doesn't take more than a couple of strokes and he's coming. The first jet hits high on Arthur's forehead, along his hairline, the next spurts cover his eye, hit his cheek and nose and every time Arthur moans, deep in his throat and shudders, the hands he has on Eames hips flexing hard and Eames knows that he might have bruises tomorrow from the tightness of Arthur's grip.
It is only when he opens his eyes again and drags in a deep breath that he notices the dark spot at the front of Arthur's grey pants. It makes him smile and it's a good thing that Arthur still has his eyes closed and is breathing hard, because Eames is sure that his smile is too smug and too possessive for Arthur's liking, but he can't help himself. It is Arthur, his Arthur and he is a sight to behold.
Arthur still has his eyes closed, his face lifted up in a form of supplication, the expression on his face almost enraptured, a slight smile playing around his lips and Eames can't resist him, he's too beautiful like that. His usual careful mask despoiled, marked by Eames and so obviously loving it.
Eames rubs some of his seed into Arthur's skin as he sinks to his knees as well and then leans in, licking along Arthur's cheek, tasting himself on Arthur's skin, before he licks his way into Arthur's mouth and swallows his pleased moan into a deep and messy kiss.