Things Eames didn't know he needed: possessive Arthur.
Things Eames doesn't realise even now that he wants: the same thing without insecurity and anger.
He arches under Arthur's weight, letting out a groan as his throat is practically worn thin by savage teeth and mouth. His hands are greedy as they grab at Arthur's hips, pulling him down against himself, needing the skin to skin contact with what feels like suffocating tightness around his chest.
Somehow being with Arthur is always like this. It feels so damn good and it feels too much too little, everything at the same time, rough.
Their hips grind in a maddening rhythm against each other, Eames' heels digging into the mattress to be able to push up against Arthur. Eventually one of them needs to focus to get things further, but right now, this is somewhat doable.
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Things Eames doesn't realise even now that he wants: the same thing without insecurity and anger.
He arches under Arthur's weight, letting out a groan as his throat is practically worn thin by savage teeth and mouth. His hands are greedy as they grab at Arthur's hips, pulling him down against himself, needing the skin to skin contact with what feels like suffocating tightness around his chest.
Somehow being with Arthur is always like this. It feels so damn good and it feels too much too little, everything at the same time, rough.
Their hips grind in a maddening rhythm against each other, Eames' heels digging into the mattress to be able to push up against Arthur. Eventually one of them needs to focus to get things further, but right now, this is somewhat doable.