Eames marries Arthur’s mother six weeks after the boy’s 15th birthday. They’d met in Jamaica while Janice celebrated her divorce from Arthur’s father. Along with her son, she’d gained half her ex’s net worth, and was dedicated to investing a healthy portion on indulging herself with the things she’d been denied over the past 17 years. Namely, pleasure and attention.
Eames had taken advantage of their chance meeting on her first day, and settled in for a long con. Even three weeks with a woman like Janice would put him ahead and help get him back home. Ten days after they meet, drunk on rum and high as a kite, Eames takes a chance and proposes. They’re married and on a flight back to New York within a fortnight.
Eames’ first impression of Arthur is that he’s your typical spoiled, stuck-up, private school shit head. The kid’s eyes rake over Eames before returning to the tv when Janice introduces him to her new husband. The frown on Arthur’s face reveals exactly what he thinks of their marriage.
A year later, Eames pours Janice into bed, thankful she’s too drunk to demand anniversary sex. He wanders through the flat in search of some stress relief. The amount of medication the woman takes inches higher and higher every month and Eames is considering bailing before things get out of hand. Arthur will be heading off to school next year, and Eames knows he had no intention of ever returning.
Wandering into the den where Arthur predictably has his nose stuck in a book, Eames watches the boy until Arthur notices him.
“What?” Arthur glares, hostile as always.
Arthur’s scowl, along with the frown that furrowes his brow almost constantly, is one of Eames’s secret reasons for staying with Janice. He admitted to himself early on that the kid is hot. All long lines and sharp angles, Arthur carries a confidence lacking in most kids his age. More than his condescending demeanor is the shy vulnerability he shows when he thinks others aren’t looking. It appears when he speaks to his father on the phone, or when Janice snaps at him over nothing. Arthur is still a lonely kid, and no one seems to care.
“Mind if I watch some tv?” Eames smiles.
Arthur huffs a sigh and hauls himself off the couch.
“No, no, stay where you are,” Eames waves him back down. “I’ll keep it low.”
He settles, closer to Arthur in the corner of the sectional than is warranted, but he likes the way his presence sometimes makes the kid flush.
See, the thing about Arthur is, he likes to be challenged. He likes when people question his views and gives him an opportunity to argue his position. He likes to prove himself quicker and smarter than everyone else in the room. Eames likes when Arthur’s sharp words get him in trouble. It makes him want to bend the kid over his knee and teach him some manners.
The first time the thought had pops into his head, he’s surprised. Not that he isn’t an equal opportunity kind of bloke, but Arthur is just a kid. A kid with long, slender hands, and a wide mouth, just asking to be used. What’s ten years between friends, anyway?
Eames isn’t bothered by his position in Arthur’s life; they all know what the arrangement is. Eames is young, and pretty, and nice to show off at parties. Truthfully, Janice stopped sleeping with him about six months in. His shine had worn off, but he still has his uses. She parades him around like a show piece, and doesn’t mind when he strays, so long as it’s outside her social circle. The moment he make her look poorly, he’ll be gone.
Mostly Eames entertains his own hobbies and make sure he’s available when needed. And he thinks about Arthur. He thinks about Arthur a lot.
Two months ago Arthur received a package. Eames signed for it and left it on the table in the hall. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought had Arthur not lit up so beautifully when he saw it had arrived. The boy had flushed brightly, licking his lips as he snatched up the box and hurried to his room.
Eames loitered in the hall outside Arthur’s room, trying to determine what had him so excited. Arthur came barreling through the door with no warning, colliding with Eames. Looking like a scared rabbit, Arthur stuttered an apology and fled to the kitchen. Eames would have had to be blind not to notice the erection straining against Arthur’s school trousers.
Intrigued, Eames followed him. Arthur dug through the pantry, practically vibrating with energy.
“What are you after?” Eames leaned against the doorjamb.
Arthur startled, half turning.
“Um, nothing. I just, nothing.”
Eames raised his eyebrows. Arthur never sounded less than sure of himself when he spoke to Eames. Something had him wound up, and Eames knew he wouldn’t rest until her figured it out.
He slipped up behind Arthur, mouth close to his ear when he spoke.
“Maybe I can help you find what you need.”
Arthur froze, then shivered. “Uh, no, I got it, thanks.”
He turned, brushing against Eames.
“Excuse me.” Colour stained his cheeks, and his voice was breathy.
Eames’ eyes roamed over Arthur’s face, cataloguing his reaction, before stepping back and allowing him to pass. Arthur hurried out of the kitchen, his bedroom door slamming moments later. Eames pressed the heel of his palm to his half hard cock, imagining all the wonderful things that required the two AAA batteries Arthur had clutched in his hand when he fled.
Returned from the gym in their building that night, Eames heard a quiet sob from the other side of Arthur’s door. Eames paused, leaning closer to listen. He jerked back when Arthur groaned, low and long.
Carefully, he put his ear to the door. The bed creaked and he heard panting. Visions of Arthur touching himself sent blood rushing to his cock.
“Ah, ah,” Arthur’s voice rose.
Eames closed his eyes, imagining Arthur stretched out on his bed, naked and sweating with his hand wrapped tightly around his cock.
Arthur groaned and the creaking increased. He pictured the boy straining for release, tongue darting over his lips as he stared up at Eames, begging for it.
Eames’ breath sped up, his fingers clenched around the door frame. He wanted to throw open the door and see for himself exactly what Arthur was doing. Was he simply jerking off, or did he have two fingers shoved up inside himself. Was he rubbing off against the mattress, or grinding down, searching for his prostate. The possibilities had Eames aching in his shorts, pressing against the wood in front of him.
A gasp and a breathy moan signaled Arthur’s orgasm. The vision of his body shaking with release, spurting over his chest and up that lovely neck nearly had Eames coming untouched. Brisk movements within the room send Eames bolting down the hall to his own room, hand on his cock before the door clicked shut. Three strokes and he was coming, balls aching with release as he bit his fist to keep silent. He stumbled into the shower, bleary with want and strangely unsatisfied.
Eames “accidentally” overhears Arthur masturbating six times after that, and every time his desire for the boy increases.
Arthur shifts beside him, letting out a small whine, and Eames’ head snaps toward him. He knows that sound. It’s one of Arthur’s wank noises. The ones he makes at the beginning, when he’s just started touching himself. Eames likes to imagine it’s the sound of want turning into need.
Arthur’s focus is still on his book, but his cheeks are red and he’s fidgeting slightly.
“Can I help you?” Arthur asks, eyes on his book.
Eames clears his throat. “I thought you said something.”
Eames takes a deep breath and turns back to the tv, squirming to make room for his half hard cock.
A few minutes later Arthur, tries to pass off a moan as a cough and winds up gasping instead. Eames watches him, eyes roaming over his wriggling form in search of the reason for the boy’s behaviour. When Arthur rocks minutely against the couch, it hits him. There’s something nestled inside that tight, little ass.
All the air punches out of Eames’ chest and Arthur’s eyes snap to his. Arthur throws down his book and tries to rush past Eames. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s pulling Arthur down by the hips and into his lap.
Arthur groans at the contact, pressing closer before trying to get away. Eames wraps his arm around the boy’s waist and grinds against his ass, fully hard and gasping at the heat of Arthur on his cock.
“Jesus Christ, Arthur.” He moans, pressing his face into Arthur’s shirt.
“Let me go, please, Eames.” It’s almost a sob, desperate and panicked.
Eames tightens his hold instead, mouthing at the soft cotton. Arthur shivers, sending delicious sparks through Eames.
“Eames.” The words are a quiet and unsure.
“Hmmm,” he drags his palm to Arthur’s crotch, trailing over the erection he finds there.
Arthur presses into it, his head dropping back to Eames’ shoulder.
“You like that?” Eames asks and Arthur whines.
“So long I’ve wanted to touch you,” he confesses. “I hear you at night, you know.”
“Oh, God.” Arthur is rocking against him now, arching into his hand and back down onto his cock.
“You know what I think? I think you do it on purpose. You know I’m out there, listening. All your moans, they’re just for me, aren’t they?”
“Ngg,” Arthur speeds up.
Eames grabs him by the back of the neck, bending him in two and forcing his head to the coffee table. Arthur makes a strangled noise and freezes.
“I want to see it, darling. Whatever you’ve got shoved up your lovely, little ass.”
Arthur starts to flail and Eames hushes him, hand tight on his neck. He follows the curve of the boy’s pert ass, shoving him forward so he can nuzzle the crack.
“Oh, lovely.” He licks his lips, petting Arthur’s cheek.
“Please,” Arthur chokes out.
“Please what?” Eames leans sideways to see the boy’s face. There are tears streaming down his face “Darling, what’s wrong?”
Arthur stutters out a sob and Eames pulls him back, cuddling him against his chest.
“What is it, love? What’s wrong?”
Arthur grips his shirt, breathing heavy and shaking.
“Arthur,” Eames speaks sternly, trying to break through the boy’s panic.
Arthur take a stuttering breath. “I never thought-” He shakes his head, face flaming.
“Never thought what? I won’t know unless you tell me.”
In answer, Arthur turns his head, crushing their lips together. Eames winces at the clacking of their teeth, but kisses back eagerly. He licks into Arthur’s mouth, hot and wet, and unskilled.
Arthur surges up, twisting until he’s straddling Eames, breathing wetly against his neck. Eames pets down his back, sliding his finger under the waistband of his pants.
“I did think of you,” Arthur confesses. “Every time.”
“You dirty boy, I knew it.” Eames grins, trailing his finger down the cleft of Arthur’s ass. He encounters a flared base, flush and snug against the hole.
“Oh, darling,” He runs his finger over and around it, pressing lightly to hear Arthur moan. “Is this what was in the box?”
Arthur nods, biting his lip.
“I would have helped you with it that day, all you had to do was ask.”
Arthur huffs out a laugh, rubbing his erection against Eames’ stomach. “How was I supposed to know that? You’re my stepfather, for God’s sake.”
“Hush now, let Daddy take care of you.” Eames growls.
“God, that shouldn’t be so hot.” Arthur stares at him, eyes wide.
“My beautiful boy.” He presses on the base while stroking Arthur’s chest.
“I never would have thought,” Arthur’s breath hitches at the nudging of Eames’ finger. “I couldn’t believe when she brought you home. It was so unfair.”
“Hmm, did you have naughty thoughts about me?”
“I could barely look at you the first few months.”
“I noticed,” Eames pulls gently at the plug, causing Arthur to freeze. “I need a better view. On your knees.”
“Not here, what if she gets up?”
Eames chuckles. “Darling, I practically had to carry her home from dinner. If she’s up before Thursday, I’ll be surprised.”
Arthur frowns, sadness clouding his face.
“None of that, now. Stay with me.” Eames pressed their brows together.
“Can we go to my room?” Arthur bites his lip.
Eames responds by grabbing him by the thighs and standing. Arthur sqwaks, then flushes, covering his hand with his mouth. Eames laughs, packing him down the hall to the bedroom.
“I’m going to have to find some way to keep you quiet, hmm?”
He closes the door with his foot and deposits Arthur on the bed.
“Take off your clothes.” He watches, rapt, as Arthur tugs his shirt over his head. He rises to slip off the sweats and sits back on the bed.
“Lay down, let me look at you,” Eames cups his cock through his jeans as his eyes roam over the boy. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
Arthur flushes, looking away. Eames holds his chin with firm fingers, turning Arthur’s gaze back to him.
“You are. So fucking beautiful.”
Arthur smiles. “No one’s ever said that before.”
“Good.” He leans down and kisses him gently.
“I’ve never, with another person, I mean,” Arthur blurts.
Eames grins. “Even better.” He pulls off his own shirt and steps out of his jeans, enjoying the hungry look in Arthur’s eyes.
“Now, let’s have a look at what you’ve done to yourself.” He climbs on the bed, kneeling between Arthur’s legs.
He takes Arthur’s ankles, pushing his heels toward his ass. Opening him up for a better view.
“Oh, darling,” Eames breaths.
The flared base sit snug against Arthur’s ass, his hole stretched obscenely to accommodate the width of the black plug. Eames runs his finger along the seam where flesh meets silicone.
“This can’t be the first time you’ve used it, it arrived months ago.”
Arthur’s voice, when he speaks, is low and rough. “A few times. I wanted to see how long I could stand it tonight. I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”
“Well, lucky me, then. Is it hitting your prostate?” Eames pushes down on the upper edge of the plug and Arthur rewards him with arching off the bed, a high whine tearing from his throat.
“Lovely,” Eames grins, petting the inside of his thigh. “Tell me what want, pet. Daddy needs to know how badly you want it.”
Arthur grimaces. “That is so wrong.”
Eames grips the base of the plug, tugging it gently and making Arthur moan.
“Ah, ah, ah. Listen to Daddy,” Keeping one hand on the plug, he moves up, leaning over Arthur.
Arthur surges up, his tongue hot and slick. Eames tugs on the base again, edging it out slowly before sliding it back in. Arthur gasps into his mouth, his fingers digging into Eames’ biceps.
“Did you put the batteries in?” Eames asks, licking at the boy’s lips.
Arthur nods his head, breathless.
“And how did that feel, hmm?” He pulls the base out further this time, a little rougher.
“I have, I haven’t turned it on yet.” Arthur pants, jolting when the tip of the plug finds his prostate.
“Oh, you beautiful boy,” Eames pushes Arthur’s hair back, kissing his brow. “I’m going to do such wonderful things to you.”
“Yes, please.” Arthur gasps.
Eames moves back down, fitting the plug back in. He takes a moment to reach into his boxers and squeeze the base of this cock. His vision goes white at the touch, but the pressure pushes his arousal back.
The base has a short knob that controls the vibration.
Eames looks up at Arthur and grins. “You ready, love?”
“God ye-” He arches violently off the bed, making Eames lose his grip on the controller.
“Easy now, easy. Calm down a little.” He uses his other hand to pin down Arthur’s hip.
Arthur groans, head thrashing on the pillow.
“I don’t think we’ll need to go higher than that for now.” Eames kisses the base of Arthur’s cock.
“Please,” Arthur gasps, clawing at Eames’ head.
“Yes, darling, I know. It’s been in you so long and you just need to come, don’t you?” His lips move over Arthur’s shaft, just firm enough to frustrate.
“God, Eames.” Arthur tries to lift his hips, to bring the head of his cock closer to Eames’ mouth.
“Such a good boy,” Eames whispers before swallowing him down.
Arthur’s breathing turns erratic as Eames sucks him. He makes it wet and sloppy, and when he turns the plug up a notch, Arthur stops breathing altogether. Eames mouths at the tip, smearing precome over his lips before taking Arthur back down to the root. When he swallows around the head, Arthur’s breath rushes out and he pulls at Eames’ hair as he shoots down his throat.
Eames groans around his mouthful and swallows. He holds Arthur in his mouth until the boy starts to whine and twitch from over stimulation. Pulling back, he wastes no time turning off the plug and inching it out carefully. Arthur is boneless on the bed, eyes closed, sweat slicking his skin.
“Almost done, darling.” Eames murmurs, gently turning him onto his stomach. He brings Arthur’s hips up and spreads his cheeks to admire his hole, red and open.
Arthur bats him away weakly, groaning into the pillow.
“Oh, no, pet. Daddy needs to finish breaking in his boy. Where’s your slick?” He hooks his arm around Arthur’s waist to keep him in place while shoving his boxers down.
“No, Eames, I don’t think I can.”
“Trust me, you can. I’ll make it so good for you. You’re already open and ready for me. Beautiful boy.” Eames pulls open the drawer of the side table, finding his prize. He quickly coats himself and lines up at Arthur’s hole.
“Here we go.” He whispers and pushes the head of his cock past the swollen rim.
Arthur jerks, clawing at the sheets to move away. Eames presses him into the mattress with a hand between his shoulder blades, shushing him. He inches in as slowly as he can, his cock throbbing painfully at how tight Arthur still is. When he bottoms out he pauses until Arthur relaxes around him. Even then, it’s so constricting his prick feels like it’s being strangled.
Once Arthur stops squirming, Eames pulls out a few inches and surges back in. He groans, readjusting his grasp on Arthur’s hip. He slams in again and again, pushing the boy up the bed until Arthur braces his hands on the headboard, pushing back onto Eames’ cock.
The scent of sex is everywhere and the sound of their skin meeting drives Eames wild. He grabs Arthur by the shoulder, fucking him as hard as he can until Arthur clenches tightly around him, setting off his climax.
Eames is fairly certain he screams through his orgasm, and he silently thanks the excellent soundproofing in the flat, and the narcotics in his wife’s medicine cabinet. When he comes back to himself, he’s laying atop Arthur, gasping.
Arthus jerks underneath him and Eames rolls off, his softening cock slipping out. He pulls Arthur to him, cradling his head to his chest.
“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur,” he mumbles, dragging his lips over the boy’s hair. “My beautiful Arthur.”
Arthur beams at him, looking exhausted, fucked out, and gorgeous. “Did I do good?”
“Oh, yes, my boy. You were perfect.”
Arthur’s breathing evens out quickly and his body goes limp in Eames’ arms. He pulls the comforter over them, tucking Arthur against him.
He lays a kiss to his temple, breathing in the boy’s scent. “I’m never letting you go.”