Eames took a long pull of his beer, glancing around the club. The pulsing bass and flashing lights made his vision blur, and the iridescent shirt Jules had picked out made him feel very much like a man trying to prove he wasn’t too old for this scene.
“Shots!” Jules shouted in his ear, making him wince.
Eames accepted the shot with a nod of thanks, downing it quickly. Fucking sour apple. Once upon a time, he thought, I wasn’t this pathetic. Once, I didn’t have to go to this much trouble to get laid.
“More!” Jules grinned. Eames’ groan was drowned out by the music and he valiantly swallowed three more vile concoctions before Jules pulled him onto the dancefloor.
Dancing wasn’t Eames’ strong suit, never had been. His movements were jerky and outdated, but Jules was too busy rubbing up against him to notice. A flash of silver on a nearby dancer drew his eye as Jules cupped his groin.
“I thought you liked me.” He pouted, drawing back.
“I’m a little out of my element here,” Eames confessed, shouting to be heard. “Give me a minute.”
“Come on old man, keep up!” Jules laughed, dancing away from him.
He watched Jules twist and grind his way into the throng of bodies, realizing he had zero interest in chasing him. For three months he’d been following the man around, begging for scraps of attention, and just like that, Eames was done. No more tickets to see bands he hated, no more dinners with obnoxious people whose taste in art barely spanned the last decade, no more kissing Jules on his doorstep and never being asked inside.
It wasn’t about the sex, it really wasn’t. Eames could live without that, hell, he had been for almost a year, and he never pushed for more than Jules was willing to give. But something had been niggling in the back of his mind for a while now. Laughter poorly hidden behind hands when Eames was around, mysterious text messages, followed by nights out ending early. Even unexplained bruises on visible skin once or twice.
He pushed to the edge of the crowd, thankful for the cooler air, and again caught the flash of metal reflecting in the lights. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and Eames shook his head. The shots were kicking in and he remembered he’d left his credit card for the tab. Best cancel that before Jules made any new friends.
He thanked the bartender, sliding his card back in his wallet as a dark haired man slid in beside him.
“Water, please.” The man shouted over the music.
Eames’ eyes were drawn to the man’s lower back, where his shirt rode up as he leaned onto the bar. Two silver studs were implanted on either side of the man’s spine.
“Can I help you?” The man asked, looking over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
“I’ve never seen that before. Did they hurt?” Eames watched closely as the man swallowed down half his bottle of water before answering.
“Yes, they did,” The man laughed. “Almost as much as looking at that shirt.”
Eames frowned down at his chest, the strobe lights making his torso look like a spastic rainbow.
“I didn’t pick it, I swear.”
“I don’t know if letting someone else make you wear it is better or worse than just having terrible taste.” The man leaned closer as a new song started, sending the crowd into a frenzy of cheers.
“It could be worse, I could be wearing that.” Eames pointed to a guy wearing nothing but a leather thong that had buckles holding his penis in place.
“I’ll have you know I have that in three different colours and I am offended at your mockery!” The man said, eyes dancing with amusement.
“I’d like to see that.” Eames froze when he realized what he said, but the man threw his head back and laughed. Eames eyed the long line of his throat, mouth suddenly dry.
“I’m Arthur,” the man held out his hand. “I’d ask you to dance, but that shirt is threatening my sanity.”
Eames was shocked. This man was gorgeous, and funny, and seemingly charmed by Eames’ awkwardness and fumbling. He did the only thing he could do, he took off his shirt.
Arthur’s eyes roamed Eames’ broad chest, taking in the tattoos and the muscle beneath them.
He licked his lips. “Much. Shall we?”
Eames nodded and Arthur reached for his hand, leading him to the far side of the club. He was thankful when Arthur stopped on the edge of the crowd. The thought of wading into the writhing bodies on the dancefloor was overwhelming. Even with his shirt off, Eames was too warm and sweating.
Arthur pressed himself against Eames, hands resting lightly on Eames’ hips. He swayed to the music, leading Eames with soft pushes.
“You didn’t tell me your name.” Arthur said into his ear.
“Like the chair.” Arthur smiled.
“Like the chair.” He nodded.
“You don’t dance much, do you?”
“That obvious, is it?” Eames ducked his head.
“A little. Don’t worry about it, I can lead,” Arthur’s shirt rubbed against Eames’ chest. “You can touch me, you know.”
“Um,” Eames flushed, not sure where to put his hands.
Arthur smiled again, dimples popping out. Eames stared at them in wonder as his hands were positioned on the other man’s hips. Arthur wound his arms around Eames’ neck, pulling them closer.
“Is this okay?” Arthur asked, biting his lip.
Eames nodded, groaning a little when Arthur rolled his hips.
“Is that okay?” Arthur drew his nose up Eames’ cheek.
Eames flexed his fingers, gripping tighter and nodding when Arthur did it again.
“I came here with someone.” Eames blurted, instantly horrified at himself.
Arthur stilled, but didn’t pull back. “Are you still here with someone?”
“Not really.” Eames should have felt shame. He’d come here with Jules, with the intention of leaving with Jules. But Jules had disappeared, hadn’t he? Jules had probably found someone else to dance with, and that’s all Eames was doing, right? He and Arthur were just dancing, and Eames didn’t really want to think about Jules anymore.
“Do you want to stop?” Arthur asked, taking a step back.
Eames frowned and stepped forward, slotting them together again. “No.”
Arthur laughed and shook his head. “Am I going to get punched by some jealous twink?”
“God, no. He’d probably cry because his cash cow has dried up.” Eames blinked. The alcohol must have been clearing out the cobwebs in his mind, because he could now see exactly why Jules had kept him around.
“Um, okay.” Arthur’s smile wavered.
“Sorry, God, I’m sorry. I am so far out of my element here, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” Eames ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Hey, it’s okay. Do you want to step outside for some air?” Arthur ran his hands down Eames’ arms.
“No, I want to dance with you. You’re gorgeous, and you smell amazing, and I just want to dance with you.” Eames said, hoping he hadn’t totally blown it.
“Well, I can’t argue with any of that, so let’s dance.” Arthur’s hands slid back up to Eames’ neck as he started moving.
Eames let his head drop back, loving the feel of Arthur’s warm, hard body pressed to his. Arthur surged into him, his hips following the beat of the song. Eames stood in place, happy to have the man rolling against him. Arthur raised his arms over his head, turning his back to Eames as he shimmied. Eames took a moment to admire the view before sliding his hand along the the strip of skin showing above Arthur’s jeans. He trailed his thumbs over the piercings as Arthur’s ass brushed across his crotch. Eames’ breath stuttered and he wrapped one arm around Arthur’s waist, pulling him closer.
“You like them.” Arthur dropped his head back onto Eames’ shoulder.
“Very much.” Eames nipped gently at the shell of Arthur’s ear.
“I like your tattoos,” Arthur confessed, running his hand over the arm across his waist.
“Do you now?” Eames flexed his bicep as Arthur’s fingers danced over it.
“Hmm,” he nodded.
“Better than the shirt?”
Arthur laughed, reaching up to run his hand through Eames’ hair. God, he smelled amazing.
“Definitely better than the shirt.”
Eames nosed behind Arthur’s ear. “This may be alcohol talking, but I want to take you home.”
Arthur turned in his arms, a dark look in his eyes. “I don’t think I can wait that long.”
Eames growled, pressing forward to lick into Arthur’s mouth. He didn’t remember the last time he felt this bold, or acted this forward, but something about Arthur made him want to throw caution to the wind.
Arthur made a displeased noise when Eames broke the kiss, but the way his nails bit into Eames’ skin as he mouthed at Arthur’s neck, made him think he was forgiven. Arthur slotted his leg between Eames’, grinding gently against his half-hard cock. Eames groaned, clutching Arthur tighter.
“God, I need to get you off this dancefloor.” Arthur whispered into Eames’ ear.
“Yes, please.” Eames pulled back, panting.
“Follow me.” Arthur linked their fingers together, leading them further into the club. He stopped to shout something to a bouncer guarding a door marked STAFF. The man looked them both over, rolled his eyes, and unlocked the door.
Arthur relocked the door, leaning against it. His chest was heaving and he licked his lips.
“I swear to God, I never do this.” He said seriously.
“Then how did you know about this place?” Eames looked around at the spacious bathroom. The high toilet and support bar clearly marking it as reserved for mobility impaired patrons. The lights bathed everything in a blue hue, making Arthur’s eyes and teeth glow a little.
“Okay, full disclosure, my buddy owns this place.” Arthur said, looking nervous.
“And this is the sex bathroom?” Eames guessed.
“What? No! I mean, okay, probably, but I’ve never used it for that.” Arthur’s flush deepened and Eames stepped toward him.
“Are we about to change that? Because I can tell you that I never do this either. Not even close.”
“Seriously?” Arthur asked.
“You think I’m some kind of serial sexer?” Eames frowned.
“Serial sexer?” Arthur laughed, relaxing a bit. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“Neither do I, because I’m not one.” Eames assured him.
“What about that guy you were here with?” Arthur raised his hand to his mouth, chewing his thumbnail.
“I was wrong about him. And we were never really together.” Eames said, relieved by the truth of his statement.
“Oh,” Arthur watched him, the music from outside muted, but still clear in the bathroom. “Did you want to dance some more?”
Eames grinned. “I’m not very good, but I like to watch you do it.”
“Yeah?” Arthur asked, stepping forward to run his hands up Eames’ arms.
“Mmm, you look amazing when you dance.”
“I kind of feel amazing, too. That’s why I come here, just to blow off steam.”
Eames did his best to stop his smile, but his lips twitched, giving him away. “Blow off steam, huh?”
Arthur smacked him lightly on the arm. “Stop it, or I won’t dance for you.”
Eames pulled him close, nipping at his lips. “Are you going to dance just for me?”
“Yes,” Arthur breathed, arching his neck under Eames’ mouth. “God, yes.”
Arthur started to sway, letting Eames hold him up as he closed his eyes and moved to the music. It didn’t take long for Eames’ arousal to return. Arthur’s body in motion was a thing of beauty. The way it rubbed up against his own was more than enough to get him hard, and for his hands to start to roam. He cupped the back of Arthur’s neck, bracing him when he leaned into the hold. He trailed his other hand down Arthur chest, brushing up under his shirt and swiping over his nipples.
Arthur gasped, eyes fluttering open. Eames did it again, scratching lightly. Arthur grabbed Eames’ hips and ground against him, moaning at the friction.
“Jesus,” Eames stuttered. “You keep doing that the walk home is going to be very uncomfortable.”
Arthur grinned, sliding them together again and again.
Eames stilled him with a hard kiss. He squeezed that back of Arthur’s neck and felt him go lax.
Arthur ran his fingers lightly over Eames’ lips. “You’re mouth is obscene.”
Eames grinned. “Is that a request?”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “It is now.”
Eames kissed him again, filthy and wet, before dropping to his knees and rubbing his cheek over the front of Arthur’s pants.
“Please,” Arthur croaked, popping the button.
Eames lowered the zipper, opening Arthur’s jeans enough to get his cock out. It was long and flushed, straining outward. Eames gave it a few strokes before mouthing the head, lapping up the precome.
Arthur moaned, hips jerking slightly when Eames gave a light suck. Eames bobbed his head quickly, sliding down to take in as much as he could. Arthur swore, his fingers digging into Eames’ shoulders.
Arthur’s cock was warm and a little salty, and it drove Eames mad. He hollowed his cheeks, pulling off completely before surging back down to the root again and again. He squeezed Arthur’s ass, pulling him in, and in, and in, sucking him down until saliva was leaking from the side of his mouth.
Arthur was cursing above him, hips stuttering as he plunged his cock between Eames’ swollen lips. Long fingers tightened in Eames’ hair and Arthur shouted a warning. Not wanting to pull off, but not willing to risk it, Eames groaned. He took Arthur deep a few more times before taking him in hand.
“Come on,” Eames growled, voice hoarse and hand twisting.
Arthur let out a strangled cry and came, shooting thick ropes onto Eames’ chest. Eames stroked him through it, watching Arthur’s face closely as it contorted and then relaxed. Arthur pulled him to his feet with a rough hand in his hair. His tongue plunged into Eames’ mouth, demanding and strong, as he wrestled with the fly of Eames’ pants.
“Tell me what you want,” Arthur panted. “God, you can have anything.”
Eames grabbed his hands, stilling him. He backed Arthur up until his back it the safety rail.
“Turn around.” Eames whispered, tugging Arthur’s pants lower.
Arthur’s eyes went wide and a little panicked.
“Shhh, trust me, okay?” Eames kisses him slowly until he felt Arthur relax again.
He turned Arthur around gently, telling him to grip the bar and bending him lower with a hand to his nape. Eames pushed the man’s pants out of the way and freed his own cock. He stroked himself a few times to relieve the pressure, then swiped his hand through the cum on his chest. He spread it over his cock, using a little more to paint between Arthur’s cheeks.
“Is this okay?” He asked, rubbing the head along Arthur’s crack.
“Fuck, yes.” Arthur gasped, pushing back.
Eames’ hands were low on Arthur’s hips, squeezing gently. He thrust into the warm channel, groaning at the sensation. He used his thumbs to pull Arthur’s cheeks apart and nestled his cock in the slick space. He thrust harder, making Arthur moan.
“Christ, you’re so hot,” Eames panted, picking up the pace. “I can’t stop thinking about what you feel like inside.”
“Yes, yes,” Arthur chanted, pushing back to meet Eames’ rhythm.
His cock was leaking steadily, making a mess of Arthur’s ass, and allowing Eames to slide easily against him. As the pressure started to build, Eames’ movements grew erratic and his cock slipped lower, ghosting over Arthur’s hole.
Arthur keened, squeezing his thighs together and trapping Eames’ cock.
“Keep going.” Arthur demanded.
Eames gripped his waist, thumbing over the piercings as he rocked between Arthur’s legs. The head of his cock nudged Arthur’s balls, moving back to slide over his hole. Eames wanted so badly to press into him, to feel the heat and the pull of Arthur’s body. Next time, he promised himself, barrelling toward his orgasm. Next time.
“Yes, yes, God, next time.” Arthur agreed.
Eames barked out a laugh, unaware he’d been speaking out loud. He leaned forward to mouth at the back of Arthur’s neck.
“Can I come on your back?” He pressed lightly against the studs.
Arthur laughed. “They really do it for you, don’t they?”
Eames growled and bit down on his shoulder in response. He was so close, but he needed permission.
“Fuck, do it, just do it.” Arthur said, bending further and presenting his lower back.
Eames pushed at his shirt, pulling out and stroking his cock frantically. The first wave was like and electric jolt, sending cum halfway up Arthur’s back. Eames gasped, painting the man’s skin with his spunk until his cock grew over sensitive and he was forced to let go.
He curled over Arthur, panting wetly into his skin. He trailed kisses along his shoulder blade before straightening up and reaching for the paper towel. He cleaned up as much as he could, letting Arthur bashfully deal with the mess between his legs. He picked at the dried cum in his chest hair, wincing.
“Sorry about that.” Arthur said, buttoning his pants.
Eames grinned. “Don’t worry, it was worth it.”
Arthur flushed, pulling his shirt down. “So, what now?”
“Now, I need a shower,” Eames said. “And probably a shirt.”
“God, no. Dried cum is still a better look than that hideous shirt.”
Eames laughed and pulled Arthur to him by his belt loops. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll be cold, though.”
“I think you were just gasping something about how warm I am.” Arthur’s fingers danced over the tattoo on Eames’ shoulder.
“Did I say that?”
“Hmm,” Arthur nodded.
“What else did I say?” He asked, sucking lightly at Arthur’s neck.
“You said my name when you came.”
Eames pulled back. “Did I? I guess I’m yours then.”
Arthur broke into a grin, dimples on display. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I have a big shower.”