Arthur’s dorm is freezing when he gets back from his last class. After he’s switched on his space heater, his dorm room feeling toasty-warm, he hears a knock at his door. Arthur groans—it could really be only one person, and when he opens the door, he’s right.
In a tiny t-shirt. His teeth are chattering, and he must be cold because his nipples are poking through the ridiculously thin material.
“Central heating must be on the fritz again,” Eames says as he barges in, rambling on about how he locked himself out of his room, and how his roommate won’t be back until tomorrow due to the fact that he’s at his girlfriend’s for the night, and how lucky Arthur is that he gets to spend quality time with Eames.
Eames in his tiny, thin, boner inducing shirt.
“Sure, come on in, make yourself comfortable,” Arthur mutters, and with that Eames wraps himself up in Arthur’s favorite blanket and begins lounging on Arthur’s futon.
Eames has already won this round so Arthur concedes by ordering them a pizza and popping in Eames’ favorite movie.
Arthur’s drowsing in and out of sleep, comfortable, somewhere warm and soft, when he realizes the warm and soft place is actually Eames’ shoulder.
Arthur grows tense all over, suddenly awake, and that’s when he notices that Eames’ arm is wrapped tightly around his waist. Arthur squirms, obviously annoyed, but Eames looks at Arthur shyly, his lips wet and puffy, like he’s been biting them.
“I think it’s high time we stopped ignoring this thing between us, Arthur,” Eames rasps, his voice dark and dangerous, and Arthur’s annoyance shifts to desperate want.
“That’s a fucking great idea,” Arthur sighs, leaning in to brush his lips against Eames’.