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The long, hot weekend

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A few months ago, Eames had asked Arthur what he wanted for his birthday. At the time of asking Arthur had been drowning in work and so the obvious answer was a vacation.

Because Eames is wonderful – not that Arthur will ever admit that - not only had Eames booked a vacation, he had also invited his twin brother, Tom. He’s identical to Eames: just as gorgeous, just as smart, almost as much Arthur’s type. They first met on Arthur and Eames’s first anniversary; by the end of the night, all three of them were in bed together.

Admittedly, it isn’t quite the normal in-law relationship. Attraction and brotherly affection and friendship are all jumbled together, and Arthur’s fine with that. Sticking to the rules has never been his strong point.

Currently the three of them are standing in a clearing, the forest stretching out all around them. Between the trees the shadows gather quickly, the green darkness clouding visibility beyond a few dozen feet. It’s like a dream, Arthur thinks; a way to hide the edges of a small dreamscape. He frowns and puts his hand in his pocket, turning his totem over in his fingers so that he can feel the reassuring weight of it.

Eames and Tom stand a few feet away, their arms linked as they evaluate their choice of vacation spot. They’re both wearing checked shirts – Eames’s purple, Tom’s blue-grey – and for all that it’s the most ridiculous, stereotypical thing to wear in the Canadian wilderness, they also make it seem incredibly hot.

“You look like fucking lumberjacks,” Arthur tells them, and they look over at him with identical grins.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Eames says with a wink.

“You two can bicker later,” Tom says, shaking his head and grinning at them. “We’ve got to trek up to the cabin yet.”

Hiking isn’t Arthur’s thing; he’s a city boy to his core. Still, it’s not a hard hike and somewhere along the way the abundance of nature starts to get to him. The trail is clear and sunlit, untroubled by the shadows of the forest. The sounds of nature – the birdsong, the chirp of insects and the crunch of leaves underfoot – are soothing, and Arthur can feel the tension seep away as they get deeper and deeper into the forest. Every so often he’ll think of the Blair Witch Project and frown, but other than that it’s very relaxing.

Finally they reach the cabin. It’s a two story affair with a wraparound patio, made from a reddish wood. Tall, broad windows let in copious light and the chimney suggests that there’s a real log fire. Out front there’s a vegetable garden and that makes Arthur smile as he thinks about the wonders that Eames will be able to create with all those fresh vegetables.

“Tom says he’s going to set up a sheet and a projector so that we can watch movies,” Eames calls over, breaking into Arthur’s fantasies about ratatouille. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Only if I get to choose the movies,” Arthur says.

“That goes without saying; you have exquisite taste.” Arthur looks at Eames closely, but his expression is warm and clear, not a hint of teasing.

“That’s true,” Arthur says, and looks from one twin to the other, an idea forming in his mind – much the same idea that always forms when he sees the two of them together. “Why don’t we go inside so I can prove it?”

“You could prove it right here,” Eames says with a sleazy grin; they’re on the same wavelength, as usual.

“I don’t think so, Eames. Knowing our luck a fucking bear would come along while we were distracted.” Arthur smirks and heads off to the cabin. The coolness of his comeback is diminished when he has to stand by the locked door because Tom has the keys somewhere in the bottom of his backpack.

When the door is finally unlocked, Tom holds the door open for him – as much a gentleman as his brother – and Arthur steps inside. He has a few seconds warning that something is going to happen when he hears the twins whisper to each other. As soon as he’s in the hallway, Tom pushes him up against the wall and grins at him.

“Happy birthday, Arthur.” He presses his hips close against Arthur’s and grinds, tiny little circular movements that make Arthur bite down on a gasp.

“Thank you.” Arthur’s voice isn’t quite as steady as he would like, and then he thinks fuck it; both of them know him too well, he doesn’t need to play it cool. He lets a low, rumbling noise escape and leans his head back, offering Tom the creamy expanse of his neck. The appreciative sound that Tom makes in response makes Arthur shiver, but not so much as when Tom leans in to bite. Arthur yelps and his hips jerk forward, causing both of them to moan. As Tom continues to alternate between bites and kisses, Arthur looks over at Eames and what he sees makes his lip quiver and his dick the rest of the way to rock-hard.

Eames is watching his brother grind against Arthur with eyes that are slightly unfocused, lips parted. Already his chest is heaving and he’s palming his hard-on through his jeans. He’s just standing like a good boy, waiting for instructions.

Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on.

“Eames,” Arthur says, somewhat surprised by how steady his voice is. “Come here.”

Eames moves so fast that it’s like he’s mastered teleportation. He stands by Arthur’s side, hand twitching as though he’s going to touch Arthur. Instead he touches Tom, sliding his fingers down his arm. Tom looks up from ravishing Arthur’s neck and grins at him. They gaze at each other and Arthur thinks Jesus Christ why aren’t you kissing each other. Since he’s not entirely sure what their reaction would be he keeps the thought to himself, and thinks of the one time he has seen them leaning in, their lips brushing against one another…

So engulfed in his memories, Arthur’s not quite sure what makes both of them grin at him like that, but he likes it. One of Eames’s hands slide around his waist and the other slides around Tom’s so that they are in a three-way embrace.

“What do you want, Arthur?” Eames asks.

“I want to blow you,” Arthur whispers. “Both of you.”

The twins look at each other again, and Eames leans in to Tom, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, speaking words that Arthur can’t hear despite how closely the three of them are pressed together. Listening, Tom’s grin widens and he nods.

“You have such great ideas, Will,” he says, and both of them stand back, leaving Arthur leaning against the wall and a little bewildered. Eames does have the most wonderful ideas, Arthur is willing to concede that, but he prefers when he’s in on the plan.

“Just stay exactly where you are,” Tom says, although it’s not really necessary since both of them start to strip. With a show like that happening in front of him, Arthur is going nowhere. Tops come off first, revealing Eames’s tattooed bulk and Tom’s slimmer torso. The jeans come off next and Arthur makes a little mewling sound in the back of his throat, and he very much wants to take his dick in his hand. He doesn’t though; he just keeps watching and keeps his hands by his sides. Both of them are wearing the same brand of underwear, amusingly, though Tom’s are plain blue while Eames managed to find briefs in the most alarming pattern Arthur has ever seen. Considering that he’s seen everything in Eames’s wardrobe, that’s saying something. More importantly, their erections are straining against the cotton and god, god Arthur wants them. The twins exchange a glance, communicating silently, and both of them strip off that last piece of clothing, their identical cocks jutting from their bodies.

“Get on your knees, Arthur,” Tom says, and before Arthur even has time to process the words, he’s sinking to the floor. Faced with their nakedness, Arthur feels extremely overdressed. But Tom hasn’t told him to take anything off, and there’s something that he likes about being fully dressed and on his knees before their nakedness.

He watches Tom put a hand to Eames’s waist, guiding him over to Arthur. Both of their dicks are just in front of Arthur’s face, so close that he can smell their almost-identical scent, and he licks his lips.

“Make us feel good,” Tom orders, his voice gone husky.

For a moment, Arthur’s analytical brain kicks in, trying to decipher the best way to do this, to pleasure them both. But he gets stuck on lick them, and it repeats in his brain on a continuous loop, lick them, lick them.

Leaning forward, he puts his plan into action, darting out his tongue to taste first Eames, then Tom. While he’s tasted them both before, this is the first time that he’s had both of them at the same time like this. It gives him chance to compare the tastes, note the differences, but moreover the similarities. Wrapping one hand around each of their dicks he pulls back their foreskins and laps at the heads, sliding the tip of his tongue into the slits. As he does that to one, then the other, he’s pleased to hear that they make identical noises as well, and he grins up at them, just for a moment, before getting on with his task.

He shifts his weight slightly to try and get more comfortable – how Eames manages to stay on his knees when ordered, Arthur has no idea. To make it easier, he pulls their dicks closer together and he strokes them so that the heads bump together. Both of them make a strangled noise, and a similar sound escapes from Arthur. He holds them so that the heads of their cocks are pressed together and leans in to lick hungrily at them, his tongue running over both of them at the same time. After all, Tom did say to make them both feel good, and Arthur has a special talent for multi-tasking.

Arthur’s always loved giving blowjobs, and giving it to both of them at the same time just makes that so much better. Precome is already covering his own dick, making his pants damp and uncomfortable, but he pushes that out of his mind. He’s been told to make the twins feel good, and goddamn it, that’s what he’s going to do.

He takes Tom’s dick in his mouth first, going until he feels it hit the back of his throat and then he swallows, taking as much in as he can. He’s nowhere near as good at giving blowjobs as Eames is and certainly nowhere near as good as deepthroating - Tom, did you know your brother gives really fucking excellent head, you should try him sometime, and let me watch - but he thinks he suffices. The way that Tom starts to pant is a pretty good indicator that Arthur’s doing okay. When one of his hands tangles in Arthur’s hair, obviously with the desire to fuck his mouth, Arthur pulls away, flashing a grin up at Tom, and moves onto sucking Eames. Eames knows Arthur better, knows that Arthur cannot take a facefucking, and lets him do what he wants, lets him do what he does best.

Arthur makes sure not to leave Tom out, and as he sucks on Eames he strokes Tom, hand nice and firm around his dick. He looks up to check that they’re both okay with this arrangement and the only reason he doesn’t give an embarrassingly loud moan is because Eames’s dick is filling his mouth.

They both have an arm wrapped around each other’s waist, and their foreheads are pressed together. Their bodies, already covered in a film of sweat, are pressed close together to give Arthur better access to both their dicks. Eames moans as Arthur takes him as deep as he can, and lets his head fall back. As Arthur watches, Tom kisses Eames’s cheek and over the slick sounds of his own mouth, Arthur hears Tom say, Is that good, Will? You like that, don’t you? and then Tom bites at Eames’s earlobe, and Jesus fucking Christ, Arthur hasn’t come without having his dick touched since he was a teenager, but tonight might break that pattern.

He continues to suck Eames’s dick, stroke Tom’s, and to stare up at them. Tom, Eames whispers, voice breaking and breathless, and leans closer to his brother, their lips brushing.

Fuck is the only thing Arthur can think. The moment doesn’t last long before Eames lets his forehead fall against Tom’s, but it’s enough to make Arthur certain that he definitely could come without his dick being touched. If they keep going like this he’s going to make a mess of his Dior pants and he couldn’t care less.

Arthur swallows Eames as deeply as he can, fucking his mouth onto his dick. His spare hand squeezes Eames’s balls, massaging them with a firmness that gets him yelping. Eames gets louder, breathing ragged and moaning both their names, until he gasps, throwing his head back as he comes over Arthur’s face, over his shirt. Arthur instinctively closes his eyes and feels Eames’s come, hot and sticky, slash over his eye. He opens the other, carefully, and looks up at the twins.

Tom is holding Eames up, whispering something Arthur can’t hear, but it’s making Eames whimper and lean into Tom, holding him tightly. So intent on watching them, Arthur’s hand has stilled on Tom’s cock, and after a moment of comforting his brother, Tom looks down at Arthur.

“Weren’t you doing something?”

“Yes,” says Arthur, and concentrates all his efforts, mouth and hand, on making Tom come. Whether he was close anyway or seeing his brother come all over Arthur nudged Tom closer to the edge Arthur has no idea, but only moments later Tom groans and he too decorates Arthur’s face and shirt in come.

Now that Arthur’s mouth is free, he whines, far past the realms of restraint. Wiping the come from his eyelashes, he finds his face is absolutely covered with it. His shirt, too, is slick with come, sticky strings over his shoulders and chest, damp against his skin. Feeling how covered he is wipes away the last of Arthur’s ability to think. He wants – He doesn’t even know what he wants.

Luckily, Eames does. He sinks to his knees by Arthur’s side, kisses him, licks his own and his brother’s come from Arthur’s lips.

“What do you want, Arthur?”

“I-“ Arthur starts, but if he can’t finish a thought there’s no way he can finish a sentence.

“Jerk him off,” Tom instructs, still breathless. “Through his pants. Make him come in them. We’ve already made such a mess of him, might as well make a bit more.”

Eames looks over his shoulder and grins at his brother. “Good idea.”

“Obviously.”

“Want to help?”

“I want to watch,” Tom says, and settles down, still fully naked, into a cross-legged position.

Arthur can’t move from his kneeling stance – he lost all feeling in his knees long ago, but he can feel his dick, achingly hard. He needs to come, and doesn’t even make any protest about Tom’s suggestion that he be made to come in his pants other than a vague muttering of Dior, damn it. Eames chuckles, that deep, rough velvety chuckle that always makes Arthur want to tie him up, but whenever the twins are together it always seems to be Arthur that’s the submissive one. Not that he minds; not that he minds at all.

Eames touches his hand to Arthur’s cock through the material, softly at first, and even that is enough to make Arthur wail. Just the barest touch and he’s already so close to the edge, so, so close.

“You’re already so wet,” Eames tells him as he starts to stroke Arthur’s dick. “Just been leaking everywhere while you blew us, hmm? You must want to come so much, darling.” He keeps stroking Arthur with a strong, steady rhythm and Arthur is mewling pathetically, desperate, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. Being jerked off through clothes is hardly comfortable – not to mention terribly inefficient – and normally Arthur would just insist that Eames undressed him. But Tom wants this. Tom wants to watch Eames jerk Arthur off in his trousers and Arthur wants to give Tom what he asked for.

And then, without warning, Eames dips his head and tongues Arthur. Even through the material Arthur can feel the hot wetness of Eames’s mouth and he staggers over the edge with a cry. He greys out as he comes, taken over by the intensity. All he can do is ride his climax making broken little noises that will both embarrass and turn him on when he thinks about them later. But for now he just chokes them out as he comes so much, so hard, and Eames keeps lapping at him all the way through it.

He vaguely hears, God, that was so hot and comes out of his stupor a little bit when he sees Tom bite Eames’s lip.

“Such a mess, Arthur,” Eames says with a smile and Arthur can only gaze back at him, as thoroughly fucked out as he’s ever been. “I should take pictures.”

“Don’t be mean,” Tom says, wrapping his arm around Eames’s waist and pulling him close. “We should get him cleaned up.”

They head into the wet room where there’s plenty of room for all three of them. As the water hits Arthur’s skin it reinvigorates him – enough to enjoy watching the twins wash each other at least. Then both of them wash him, gently washing away the mess they made, cleaning skin and hair until he feels fresh and clean and new again. Once the water’s shut off, Arthur still feels embarrassingly weak. Both of them dry him off, and all he can do is smile and loll uselessly.

“You alright, love?” Eames asks, looking into Arthur’s face. Arthur just smiles at him, leaning forward into his arms and sighing into the hard muscle of his shoulder.

“Perfect. You’re perfect. Love you.”

Eames laughs, sounding delighted, and kisses Arthur’s hair. “I love you too, you silly sod.”

“He’s really out of it,” Tom says, sounding half-amused, half-concerned. Arthur just smiles wider into Eames’s shoulder.

“He’s alright,” Eames says. “I’ve been like this dozens of times, it’s about time the tables were turned. He just needs a nap.”

“A nap does sound like a good idea,” Tom says, and Arthur agrees, but he can’t make his mouth form the words.

It takes both Tom and Eames to manoeuvre Arthur into the bed and when he’s there, Arthur snuggles up against Eames, who cuddles him back. “You’re never going to live this down,” Eames says, and part of Arthur’s brain, the single solitary part that’s still online, knows that but doesn’t care. When Tom’s arm comes down over Arthur’s waist, he sighs, happy to be wedged between the two of them.

When Arthur asked for a vacation for his birthday, he didn’t envisage spending a weekend being fucked until he loses his mind, but it looks like that’s what he’s getting.

It’s the best goddamn birthday present ever.

Chapter Text

People say that Arthur has no imagination, but even so he can think of so many scenarios involving himself and the world's hottest set of twins.

Watching The Gingerdead Man is not one of them.

They’re sprawled out on a blanket under a full moon and a breathtaking spread of stars. It’s the perfect set up for either romance or fresh air sex, or better yet both. Instead they’re watching this piece of crap movie. The remnants of wrapping paper from Arthur’s birthday gifts are strewn around, mocking reminders of how wonderfully the day started.

"This is shit," he says for the third time. "Do we really have to watch this?"

"Bloody hell, you're whiny tonight," Eames says with an affectionate, amused grin that makes Arthur glower at him.

"Yes, because we're watching a crappy movie - which I specifically said I didn't want to watch - on my birthday," Arthur says. Before he’s even halfway through the sentence he realises he sounds like the world's whiniest teenager – but it is his birthday. No-one should have to be subjected to Gary Busey on his birthday.

"You did agree," Tom interrupts without looking away from the film. "You said you’d watch something we wanted if we watched your avant garde French crap."

"I didn’t mean this," Arthur says before he can stop himself.

Eames fixes him with a look, the kind of intense, deeply focused look that Arthur usually sees when Eames is shooting things. It really shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

"You know," Eames says with a slowly growing smile, "If you don't want to watch, there are other options."

"Yeah?"

Eames smiles and picks up a thick red ribbon that decorated one of Arthur's presents. He crawls over and straddles Arthur’s thighs. Arthur hitches an eyebrow, projecting coolness that he does not feel. Whenever Eames is this close, Arthur cannot summon the cool rationality that most people in extraction think is the totality of his being. It’s why they don’t work together often: Eames is just too fucking distracting. So distracting that Arthur doesn’t grasp his plan until he lifts the ribbon to Arthur’s face.

"Close your eyes, darling."

Arthur frowns and leans back. “Seriously, Eames?”

“It means you won’t have to watch the film,” Eames says, and that is promising. “And you can trust me.”

“Of course I trust you,” Arthur snaps, and then sighs; he does trust Eames. They haven’t done this before – Arthur has blindfolded Eames, many times, but never this way around. Tom’s presence always changes the dynamic between them. Arthur looks over at Tom to see him looking over, every bit as intense as his brother. Suddenly sure that this is a good idea, Arthur closes his eyes.

The ribbon is tied around his eyes; not too tight but enough to fit snugly and block out the light.

Years of military training and criminal activity have taught Arthur to use his other senses when one of them is compromised. Of course, at no point during any of that training or experience did he have fingers tweaking his nipples or plush lips kissing him breathless. It’s hard to notice anything other than Eames, so when a second set of hands joins in Arthur jumps, startled.

Tom – or maybe Eames – chuckles, and someone’s fingers slide into the waistband of his trousers.

"We're going to have all kinds of fun with you," Tom promises, lips close to Arthur’s ear. "And you won't know what's coming."

"Apart from us," Eames says, and there is a dual rumble of laughter.

"Yeah. Apart from us. What do you think, Will? You want to come on him, or in him, or...?"

"In him," Eames says decisively, and Arthur is absolutely on board with that decision. Without even a pause they start to kiss Arthur, both of them. Eames first; Arthur thinks, recognising his style. Then a hand gently pushes his chin aside and then Tom is kissing him. They swap a few more times until Arthur is flustered and hard, and he's not sure which kiss belongs to which twin anymore.

There’s a pause while one of them turns off the movie - thank god - and then both of them are back, kissing him and running their hands all over him. One set of hands unbuttons his trousers and pulls his dick out into the cool air, while another hand slides fingers into his mouth.

"We're going to have our wicked way with you," one of them says, and Arthur thinks that's Eames but he can't be sure because he's slipped into Tom's slightly different cadence – Arthur is sure that they want him to not know which twin is which. Which is... pretty fucking hot, actually.

Showing impressive skill and cooperation, the twins undress him in seconds, then pull him to his feet, walk him backwards. As sure footed as Arthur is he moves easily, but he would very much like to know what their plan is. That’s the feeling he always has with the two of them and one day he may learn to just roll with it and let them take control. He walks backwards until the back of his ankles hit the bottom stair of the cabin.

“What-“

“Climb,” one of the twins says, and carefully moving backwards, Arthur does. “Now sit.”

Arthur lowers himself to the step. The instant he’s sitting, four strong hands spread his legs wide and then he feels hot breath on his dick and balls.

“Fuck,” he hisses. One of them starts to sucks at the tip of his dick while the other laps at his balls. Arthur gasps and as good as it is he wishes he could watch, see both of them with those obscene lips all over him

Now Arthur is fairly sure he knows which of them is doing what. Eames has far more experience with guys and his blow jobs are exquisite. That’s him now, sucking Arthur’s cock and it’s divine. Since Tom identifies as mostly-straight he has had less practice, but he gently sucks one of Arthur's balls into his mouth and god, it feels good. Arthur moans and his hands scrabble on the steps, fingers curling around the edge, holding tight as the twins continue working on making him lose his fucking mind.

It doesn’t take long.

Fingers slide between his legs, pressing just behind his balls and then slowly sliding further back. The contact makes Arthur shiver and gasp, pleasure building in him and threatening to go supernova. When the finger presses gently against his asshole - not pushing in, just teasing, circling - Arthur whimpers. He wants to come but he can’t, not yet. He wants more, more of everything the twins have to offer.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please.”

“So polite,” one of the twins says, amusement threading through his voice.

“Don’t worry, Arthur,” the other says – Arthur thinks it’s the other but he’s so far gone at this stage that it takes conscious effort to concentrate on anything other than their hands and mouths on him. “We’re going to do everything you could possibly want. We’re going to make this the best birthday ever.”

Arthur makes a noise that’s undeniably a sob, and then one of them moves away. He sways between being glad of a moment’s reprieve and needing them back, now.

“Come back,” he gasps, deciding, and gets a swift kiss in return. There is the rustle of clothing and the slide of a zipper, and Arthur’s skin tingles with anticipation. Whatever they’re planning on doing to him next, apparently they need to be naked to do it.

His mind starts to run through scenarios of what they might be planning, but then the mouth is back on him, sucking him while the other twin moves away to undress, and Arthur’s train of thought is obliterated. The other twin returns and slides his hands down Arthur’s body. Just that makes Arthur a shivering wreck, he’s so far gone now that everything, anything, makes him feel good. A finger presses to his ass, slick with lube – Eames always keeps lube in his wallet because he’s wonderful – and starts to slide in. Arthur is so turned on that his body presents little resistance and the finger slides in to the knuckle smoothly.

“God, you’re so ready,” one of them says. “So slutty for us.”

“Fuck yeah,” Arthur says, and he is, always has been. The second finger is a bit more of a stretch, but Arthur’s always loved that pleasure-pain of being stretched, and not knowing who’s doing it to him, not knowing what they’re going to do to him next, adds a shivery, wonderful element of surprise.

Without warning, the fingers slide out of him and the mouths move away. Beyond the ability to form words, Arthur just groans and reaches out for them. Hands slide into his and he is pulled to his feet, and led down the stairs and. A few steps further and the blanket is soft and fleecy under his feet.

“On your knees,” one of them says, and when Arthur follows orders, he is pushed down onto all fours. He listens carefully, trying to figure out where they are, but when one of their dicks bumps against his lips it comes as a surprise. The surprise doesn’t last long; Arthur’s tongue darts out to taste. He thinks he recognises the taste, the smell, as Eames. But fuck, he’s not exactly operating on all cylinders.

Arthur starts to suck on the dick that is nudging at his lips, taking the head into his mouth and running his tongue over it. The taste makes him feel a little dizzy, makes his dick ache. And then strong hands part his ass cheeks and something thicker than fingers presses against his asshole. He whimpers, the sound muffled since his mouth is full. The twin in his mouth gently presses further in and Arthur’s hands scramble in the blanket, trying to get something to hold onto. Being blindfolded makes him feel floaty, unearthed without sight to anchor him. That only makes it hotter; the only things that he does have to anchor him are the twins, the dick in his mouth and the dick slowly pushing into his ass.

“You like that, don’t you,” the twin behind him says as he pushes in all the way, hips pressed against Arthur’s ass. The only response Arthur can give is to sob. It feels so good to be filled, airtight; to take every inch that he can. And as they start to thrust into him he shakes, wanting them to fill him with their come, sure that when they do, that’s when he’ll come too. He takes them deep – the twin in his mouth, he swallows deeper than he ever remembers doing before, and hums to make it good; from the noise that Eames – or maybe Tom – is making, it is working. He pays just as much attention to the twin in his ass, fucking back onto him and making him grunt and tighten his grip on Arthur’s hips. He’s going to bruise, he’s sure of it, and the idea of this night being marked on his skin makes Arthur moan.

The movements of the twin in his ass makes Arthur jerk forward, thrusting his mouth deeper onto the other twin. The idea that one of them is using Arthur’s body as a conduit to blow the other twin, jesus, it’s such a hot fucking thought and Arthur is sure that he’s going to come from this, from being used like this.

“You love that, don’t you, Eames,” Tom says. As out of it as he is, the voice just seems to come from nowhere and Arthur can’t pin down whether Tom is in front of him or behind him, and he doesn’t really care.

“Yes,” Eames whispers. “Seeing you doing that to Arthur, jesus, you look so fucking beautiful.”

They both thrust harder, deeper into Arthur, and the one fucking his ass is stroking against his prostate with every movement. Fuck, fuck, Arthur thinks, and he’s sobbing now; the blindfold is damp against his cheeks from his tears. He’s going to come without even having his dick touched, just from having the twins fucking him; the best birthday present he’s ever had.

“You going to come?” One of them says, and it must be the one fucking his ass, because he continues with, “You are, I can feel you, you’re so fucking tight around me. Come on, come for us, Arthur,” and he does, hard, so hard that he almost blacks out, slumping forward. Only the hands of the twin fucking his mouth, supporting his shoulders, stops him from slumping forward. He cries out, a loud and desperate sob around the dick in his mouth, and feels his own come splash against his belly. His orgasm sweeps him away and as the twins continue to fuck his ass and mouth, he feels disjointed, enjoying it but not really there as they come inside him.

Both of them yell identical cries into the night and thrust deep into him, flooding his mouth and his ass with their come. When they pull away Arthur’s knees and elbows give out and he falls onto the blanket. The twins do as well, either side of him. Arthur feels arms and legs tangle with his own, a pile of hot, sweaty, post-orgasmic awesome.

The blindfold is pulled from his eyes and he finds himself looking at Eames, who is smiling and beautiful and looks as happy as Arthur feels.

“Happy birthday, love,” he says, and kisses Arthur.

“Happy birthday, Arthur,” Tom says, and kisses the back of Arthur’s neck. Arthur twists so that he can kiss Tom, too.

They cuddle him tightly and Arthur is adrift in a smiling, sleepy state of happiness, surrounded by people he loves.

This really is the best birthday ever.

Chapter Text

The trouble with perfect birthday weekends, Arthur thinks, is that they end.

They end far too soon, and he wonders what Eames would think if Arthur suggested that they kidnap Tom. He winces at the thought of Eames’s reaction; to say that he's overprotective of his brother would be the understatement of the century.

Although Arthur sees them together disappointingly rarely, he is grateful for those rare times and not only because both twins like to have sex with him. There are lots of wonderful things about Eames’s relationship with his brother that fascinate Arthur. Like the way that they are sitting together on the sofa. Eames is lounged against Tom, back resting against Tom’s chest. Tom’s hand is on Eames’s stomach, absentmindedly stroking the skin where his t-shirt has ridden up. The twins are reading and Arthur’s supposed to be doing some preliminary research for his next job but god damn are they distracting. That, Arthur supposes, is another reason why kidnapping Tom wouldn’t work out: he’d never be able to concentrate again.

Still, he doesn’t have to work right now. He has plenty of time to do his research later, and he only has Eames and Tom until tomorrow morning.

He watches them over the top of his laptop. Watches the way Eames says something, pointing at the magazine he’s reading. Watches the way that Tom leans forward, laughs and then drops a kiss to the top of Eames’s head. That makes Eames smile – such a sweet, lovely smile, as innocent as Arthur has seen on him and a complete juxtaposition to the filthy thoughts creeping into Arthur's mind.

As Arthur watches, Tom’s fingers skip across Eames’s stomach, playful, and Eames laughs, batting his brother’s hand away.

“Stop being such a bastard,” Eames says, twisting so that he’s straddling Tom’s hips. “I’m trying to read.”

“Then why’s your magazine on the floor?”

“Because I’m going to teach you a lesson,” Eames says, and starts to tickle Tom. Arthur stares as they become a tickling, giggling mass, rolling onto the floor and demanding that the other yield. Eames pulls off Tom’s t-shirt to get better tickle-access, and Arthur gives up all pretence of work. He closes his laptop and puts it aside, palming his already-mostly-hard dick through his jeans.

Eames and Tom have been ignoring him completely so far, but halfway through a fresh demand for surrender, Eames looks over at him and breaks off his sentence halfway. Tom follows Eames’s line of sight and he grins at Arthur, who is unashamedly stroking himself through his jeans. They both know how hot he thinks they are when they touch each other like that – why should he apologise for it?

“You know, Arthur,” Eames says, “I have one more birthday present for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Wait here,” he says, and jogs out of the room. That leaves Arthur alone with Tom, who is still grinning.

“Considering it’s your birthday, I’ve had a brilliant time myself,” he says. “I always have the best time with you and Will.”

“You know you can come visit any time,” Arthur says, not even attempting subtlety. “We’ll always do our best to make you welcome.”

Tom gives a snort of laughter. “You’re bloody transparent, Arthur,” he says, standing and pulling Arthur to his feet. Tom wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist, and while his arms aren’t as gloriously huge as Eames’s, they still feel strong and good around him. “You’re also bloody gorgeous,” he adds, and kisses him. Arthur hums and slides his arms around Tom, opening his mouth to admit Tom’s tongue. He loses himself in the kiss, focus completely on Tom’s tongue in his mouth, hands on his ass, so that when his hands are pulled behind his back he gasps in surprise.

“What-“ It’s Eames, of course, but when he wraps a rope around Arthur’s wrists it becomes obvious that this isn’t his normal playful self. Eames slowly winds the rope around Arthur, making a pattern of knots and loops around his arms, and then around his chest and waist.

They’ve done this before but it’s always been Eames tied up and at Arthur’s mercy. The only time that Arthur feels submissive is when Tom is around, and he’s surprised by how much he likes being bound like this. It’s relaxing, and the stress melts away as Eames gently, lovingly ties the final knot and kisses his shoulder.

“Beautiful,” he says, gazing down at his handiwork. It is beautiful. The rope is dark blue and looks good against the paler blue of Arthur’s shirt. The knots are perfect, making Arthur into a work of art. “I knew that this was the perfect present.”

“My birthday present?” Arthur asks as Eames curls his fingers into the knotwork and pulls Arthur around to face him. Being pulled like that makes Arthur gasp, feeling an unexpected thrill like ice water down the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Eames says. “I’ve even taken a few lessons to make sure I’m up to scratch. Not as good as you, of course, but no-one is as perfect as you.”

Eames is being perfectly honest – or at least as far as Arthur can tell, and after five years together he thinks he knows Eames’s tells. It touches Arthur, and he feels a line of heat across his cheeks.

“And perfection,” Tom adds, pressing against Arthur’s back and unbuttoning his jeans, “deserves the best.”

“The best squared,” Eames says, grinning. “Which is why you’re lucky I have a twin brother, hmm?”

“So fucking lucky,” Arthur says, and it’s the honesty in his own voice that embarrasses him this time.

Tom strips Arthur of his jeans and briefs, helps him to step out of them and then after a brief grin at Eames, both of them undress. Since Arthur is trapped in his shirt by the rope, he wonders if they’re planning on making a mess of him again like they did on Friday night. The memory of it makes him shiver with anticipation.

Without words the twins move together, Eames lightly pulling on the rope and Tom’s hands on Arthur’s back. They often do this – work together without communication – and Arthur wonders if there might actually be something to the twin bond that they joke about. But then Tom sits and pulls Arthur into his lap, and all thoughts fade away; the dick between his ass cheeks grabs all of his attention.

Or almost all: Eames is standing before him, and Arthur leans forward so that he can lick his cock, aching to have both of them. For a moment Eames lets him, but then steps away.

“No, love. I’ve got a better idea.”

“Better than me sucking you off?”

“Me sucking you off.”

When Eames is right, he’s right.

First Eames goes to grab the lube from the bedroom, and the seconds are filled pleasantly with Tom alternating between bites and kisses on the back of Arthur’s neck. And then Eames is back, handing the lube to Tom and then dropping to spread Arthur’s thighs. Arthur looks down; Eames’s hands look so tanned against his own pale skin, and so strong; the sight makes a trickle of precome slide down his dick, but Eames catches it with his tongue before it reaches his balls.

“See, this is better,” Eames says, grinning, and slides his tongue up Arthur’s dick, hand firmly wrapped around the base.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” Arthur says, but the stuttering, gasping way that he says it doesn’t do much for his credibility.

Eames concentrates on his task, mouthing at Arthur’s dick. It feels good, as it always does, and it gets even better when Tom presses a finger into Arthur. Normally Arthur would grab – something, anything – but with his hands tied he can’t do anything. All he can do is let them pleasure him.

Tom works him open slowly and Eames sucks him off in the same manner. It builds and builds, until he’s shivering uncontrollably. Although he’s not normally a talker during sex – other than telling Eames what to do – somehow having his hands bound changes that; he can’t stop words spilling from his mouth.

“Fuck, yeah,” he gasps. “That’s good – your mouth’s so fucking hot. Another finger, Tom, fuck.”

And on it goes. Tom chuckles in his ear, nipping at his earlobe; no doubt Eames is similarly amused but his mouth is otherwise occupied. Arthur still can’t corral his words until Tom pushes his dick inside him and then all he can manage is a wordless cry.

Eames swallows him deep as Tom slides all the way in, and Arthur gives a strangled noise. One twin in him, the other with Arthur’s dick down his throat, like their only purpose in the world is to pleasure Arthur.

As Tom thrusts into him, Arthur is rocked forward, unable to balance himself without being able to move his arms. Eames, sucking on the tip of Arthur’s dick, sees his predicament and presses a hand to his chest. It helps him balance but it also makes him feel trapped: Eames’s strong arm pressed against his front; Tom’s hands on his hips and his body pressed against Arthur’s back. For a brief second the feeling threatens to become panic, but then it shifts. He trusts them, and he trusts them to look after him. That acceptance is transcendental and his worries slide away. All that there is in his world is how good they’re making him feel and how beautiful Eames looks with his lips around Arthur’s dick.

“I bet you’d like to fuck Will’s mouth,” Tom says, lips close to Arthur’s ear. “Like to grab hold of his hair and just thrust into him. But you can’t, hmm, not being tied up like this. Let me help.”

He slides his hands around Arthur’s waist, and does just what he said; his fingers tangle into Eames’s hair, holding his head still so that each of his own thrusts pushes Arthur’s cock into Eames’s mouth. Arthur just whimpers; heat pools at the bottom of his spine and spreads though him as the pleasure builds and builds.

Eames looks up at him; he loves this as much as Arthur does. Through the tangle of their bodies, Arthur can see that the hand that was around Arthur’s dick is now around Eames’s own. He always looks so beautiful when he’s jerking off – Arthur has many photos and videos of it for when they’re apart – but he looks even better when he has Arthur’s dick in his mouth and his brother’s hands in his hair.

Seeing him like that makes Arthur perilously close to coming, but it is Eames who comes first, his cry muffled by Arthur’s cock. He doesn’t try to pull away, though; he takes every inch of Arthur’s cock down his throat with every thrust.

Seeing Eames come but continue to pleasure him is what pushes Arthur over the edge; that and Tom’s dick stroking his prostate with every thrust. Arthur cries out loudly as he comes – screams - and later he will be very glad that the nearest neighbour is miles away. Tom keeps fucking him, hard, and the sensation is overwhelming. Tears blur Arthur’s vision; not from pain but because it’s just too much, especially as his soft cock is still in Eames’s mouth.

And then Tom comes, crying out almost as loudly as Arthur. Spent, he drops his head onto Arthur’s shoulder, breathing heavy; his fingers relax, stroking Eames’s hair now rather than pulling it. All three of them are utterly fucked out, and Arthur feels completely satisfied, happy in his ropes and trapped between the twins.

Tom’s soft dick slides from Arthur, and they both moan softly. Arthur feels Tom’s come slide out of his ass, but then Tom presses it back in along with two fingers. Arthur shivers at being filled again, and can only stare, open-mouthed, at Eames as he sits up. Eames darts in for a kiss and Arthur moans against his lips, tasting his own come on Eames’s tongue. Tom kisses the back of his neck and Arthur’s eyes fall shut, sinking into the feeling.

Eventually they move, both twins pulling away, just enough to allow Eames to undo the knots he made. He talks as he does, murmuring about how beautiful Arthur looked, how wonderful he is. Arthur can only smile at him, still feeling languid and more relaxed that he’s ever felt in his life. The rope drops to the floor and Arthur’s arms drop to his sides. He frowns, looking down at them; it feels odd to be free after being tied up. But Eames keeps talking softly, stroking Arthur’s thigh and running fingers through his hair. Tom’s hands are on Arthur’s hips and he returns to kissing the back of his neck.

“You’re alright darling, you’re beautiful, just look at you,” Eames says, and Arthur smiles, feeling oddly proud to hear him say that when normally he would roll his eyes at Eames’s sappiness.

“I know,” he says, to save face, and Eames grins at him, seeing through his meagre cover. “Can we… lie down?”

None of them are up for moving to the bedroom, but Tom grabs the throw from the sofa, and they make a nest of it in front of the fire. Later they need to shower – they’re covered in sweat and come – but for now he is happy to be trapped between them again, caught in a three-way cuddle.

This is officially the best birthday ever, Arthur thinks to himself, sleepy now. It’s been incredible and sadness settles over him as he thinks that it is coming to an end.

But then he realises that it will soon be the twins’ birthday. There is time enough to plan something wonderful, something that might even beat this weekend, and Arthur is a master of planning.

This might be the best birthday that he’s ever had; now he will make sure that they have the best birthday they’ve ever had.

However sad he is that his birthday weekend is almost over, he still grins: now he has something to look forward to.