Eames presses closer to him, one arm circling Gerard's waist to hold him firmly while his other hand starts from Gerard's throat and makes a slow descend over his front toward his hips, fingertips light on his skin, counting ribs, diving into hollows and describing arches like a sculptor discovering the shape of something beautiful out of clay.
"Like this?" he asks softly beside Gerard's ear while both of his hands drop to his hips and from there to his thighs. "Where do you want me to touch?"
The question is followed by his lips mouthing the columns of Gerard's throat.
Gerard doesn't answer with words, just writhing against Eames at first before covering Eames' hands with his own and moving them from the tops of his thighs to slide down to the insides of them. It's just as good as Gerard remembered it feeling. Better, even. He'd gone wild from his the small amount that had full sensitivity before. Having it all back, if only in this shared dream...
"Oh God-" Gerard gasps, squirming against Eames like he's trying to crawl into his lap, to fuck himself on Eames' cock through his clothing. His own hands drag up to scratch marks up Eames' arms.
Eames gets rid of his shirt. In a dream this is easy, doesn't even have to free his arms for it. Skin against skin, there's nothing quite like that sensation and Gerard seems like he's ready to crawl out of his own and Jesus if that isn't hot as hell.
Apparently they're not going to swimming just yet.
He lets Gerard guide his hands, push them between his legs to the sensitive inner thigh. He drags a little bit of the blunt line of his nails across the skin there and when Gerard shudders, he hums against his ear, low and soft.
"We need a bed before your legs will give out," he murmurs softly and makes sure that there is one to be found once they turn their heads towards the water. It stands on rocks at the shore, half in the body of the water. A decorative metal frame and muted dark grey sheets of crumbled linen.
He's pretty sure if he couldn't climax from just this - Eames's nails on his inner thighs, Eames' voice warm in his ear - it could keep him on edge for a day until he was begging for any kind of release. Eames being able to just make a bed appear, too - the perverse possibilities of this really are endless, aren't they?
"Carry me?" Gerard half asks, half demands. Bold in assuming his legs aren't already having second thoughts about any kind of movement that isnt to work himself further against Eames. His hands just feel so good, though. The warmth and strength to them, the control, the callouses from his art - Gerard tries to commit all of it to memory, hoping he won't forget the feeling when he wakes.
Eames smiles as he bends down to pick Gerard up. "Your wish is my command, darling," he murmurs as he hauls the light body against his own and carries him to the bed. Things like weight and gravity have no hold over him in a dream but he likes them, so the satisfying feeling of Gerard's weight against him makes him hum under his breath.
The sheets are soft and crumbled and have a scent of sleep on them, a little bit of a sunlight and fabric softener in the mix, like warm summer days spent in the sun, reading. This is a memory that Eames is mixing in with the dream. The bed makes the same sound as the metal framed sofa at the porch of his childhood as he lowers Gerard on it, groaning under their weight. (It's a strange detail given that he's lived in a concrete block all his youth.)
He scoots beside him onto the bed, propping his head up on one elbow while his other hand urges Gerard to turn onto his stomach. Then Eames proceeds to trail his fingers over that slender back, again and again, starting from the nape of Gerry's neck and sweeping over his back, down to his arse. He slides his fingertips to the crease beneath his glutes and down to his thighs, tracing the insides when he comes back up. He's patient and watches tremors run ahead of his fingers, following them where they go, finding all the sensitive spots on Gerard's body without even trying too hard.
It smells and feels like comfort altogether unfamiliar in its warmth, the bed. Gerard is only too happy to turn to lay on his stomach when Eames directs him to - he's most comfortable lying on his stomach rather than his back anyway. It doesn't hurt that he's then rewarded with Eames exploring every bit of sensitive skin. Fingers along his spine make him tremble. He shivers again when Eames touches his ass, breath hitching just slightly. Like this, his whole body is terribly sensitive, but his inner thighs especially so, along with just above his tailbone. He spreads his legs a bit to give Eames more room to work, to invite further exploration. He doesn't feel the need to demand more or encourage Eames to rush, though. Something about the way Eames's hands seem so determined to map every part of him makes him want Eames to take all the time he desires at it.
"Does everyone use this dream sharing for things like this?" he has to ask, breathless.
"No," Eames replies, his voice soft to accompany the light, teasing and gentle touches his is flooding over Gerard's body.
He definitely takes his time, tracing every nook and cranny of Gerard's body with his fingertips, the undersides of his arms, his elbow creases, the rise of his hipbone and then up to describe his shoulder plates. He draws Gerard out with his fingertips, each inch of his skin equally explored.
Then he follows the light touches of his fingertips with his mouth, pressing warm, wet kisses on the expanses of Gerard's back and down towards his hips, over his perky arse. Between kisses he speaks quietly, slowly, taking his time to offer explanations.
"Dreamshare was developed for the army. And we spent quite a few years diving in as a team and learning how to shoot each other, how to kill and be killed, and then do it again the next night.
"I was very good at it, so I spent a lot of time with the unit, teaching new soldiers. But eventually it just wore me out. There were some people looking into the technology for other purposes. They were exploring the limits of it and some of it ended up being somewhat illegal.
"It's often used for information gathering. Secrets, you can learn those through dreams if you know what you're doing. Extractors give the target a place to hide their secrets, then they go and steal them.
"In the extreme and difficult cases, you can also plant ideas..."
Goosebumps follow in the wake of Eames' initial touches, pale blonde hairs almost invisible against pale skin. By the time Eames switches to his mouth to follow up, Gerard's heard enough for his cock to be leaking against the bed, rubbing against it every now and again just to get some relief from the slow teasing touches.
That it started as military isn't surprising - Eames was a former soldier, he had said as much, so of course if he was familiar with it this intimately.
"Are you trying to plant an idea right now?" He asks, breathless, looking over his shoulder at Eames. He rather thought Eames was trying to plant something else...
Eames leans back to look at him while his fingers mount that swell of an arse and then dive from it, between Gerard's legs. But instead of his cock or his balls, he goes for the sensitive skin of his thighs, drawing first the inner seam then over his thigh to the outside, and back again...
They've done this before, teasing, ticklish touches, but this time there's a definitely sensual tilt to it.
"What kind of idea I would be planting?" he asks with fond amusement as he leans down to kiss Gerard's shoulder.
Gerard grips the sheets in his fists, trying not to demand, but Eames is going to drive him crazy with teasing soon at this rate. He spreads his legs on the bed a little further offering up more of himself, but he can have his cock and balls and ass played with when he's awake. This, he can't have anymore.
"S'what I'm wondering," Gerry replies, breathless, "because I'm pretty sure I was already thinking of this.
"Probably not trying to plant an idea, then," Eames murmurs as he pushes himself up a little, just so he can reach down to press his mouth to the swell of Gerard's arse, and drag it, his chin with a little bit of stubble down to those exposed thighs and continue to kiss, and nip and brush his chin across those trembling legs.
He leaves Gerard's dick and his arsehole well alone for now. Because he knows this is something Gerard doesn't get when he's awake, the touch on his bare skin that actually would feel like something other than pressure.
It doesn't stop his asshole from twitching with anticipation just the same, the feel of Eames' lips and the rough stubble sending little jolts of sensation through him. It's been forever but his body hasn't forgotten, and it leaves him panting and whimpering, pressing his face against the pillow to muffle the sounds that threaten to echo in the dream cave.
The sounds he's making are quite lovely and keep Eames rather interested in trailing his mouth and hands down along Gerard's legs, patterning his skin with his touch. He teases the soft skin at the inside of the knee, describes the arch of a calf with his chin and stubble while his fingers trace the outline of Gerard's body. A kiss is dropped to both ankles, prickling stubble rubbed across the soles of Gerard's feet and then Eames' fingers push between his toes before he's on his way back up, repeating the process but backwards.
The bed squeaks a little but Eames ignores it. He magics up a buttplug from his pocket and some lube, dropping them on the bed between Gerard's legs before he lets his tongue slip between those quivering cheeks and lap over Gerard's twitching hole.
Gerard's skin reddenes easily with the brush of Eames' stubble, every nerve alight with the smallest sensations. He's a panting mess from it, trying not to squirm, to just let Eames surprise him with where he touches. He reaches up to grab at the bar along the headboard just to have something more substantial than fabric in his grip. The air is so much cooler against his skin but so warmed where Eames touches, passing over him like a summer storm.
Eames hums out a chuckle and leaves Gerard to interpret it the way he likes. Fucking, however, is definitely on the menu here.
He's too busy for confirming or denying, however, with his tongue pressing flat against Gerard's hole, teasing and teasing, fluttering against it before he lets the tip of it press inside him, just a teasing little bit. His hands are busy spreading Gerard and after a moment he pulls up to wiggle his fingers invitingly. "Hands," he says and when Gerard surrenders them, Eames puts them on his his own cheeks. "Keep them spread for me, love," he says before he dives in there again, lapping the flat of his tongue over that puckered ring of muscle again and again.
The teasing leaves him gasping, practically choking on the air he's desperate to remember he needs, but Eames' tongue is such a tease against his hole. Barely inside before back out again, just enough to make Gerard want to cry for how much he wants more. His fingers are cramped from how hard he was holding onto the bar, but he holds himself open for Eames at his direction, holding tight enough to leave marks behind if this wasn't a dream.
Eames shifts him into his knees by grabbing Gerard's hips and pulling him up, helping him to get those thighs folded under himself before he gets back down to it, his tongue worming its way back to Gerard's hole and licking over it boldly.
His hands work under Gerard, pulling his dick gently down between his legs and urges him to close his thighs. For a moment he thinks about ropes but discards the idea for now. They'll get to play around with all of that later.
When his tongue spears up again and dives into Gerard, it's probably a little longer and limber than what Gerard expected. This is a dream and Eames is free to play with physics as much as he wants.
Gerard follows Eames' direction - he can't not right now, all he can think about is Eames' tongue inside of him working him up in an utterly wicked fashion. He wonders, absurdly, if they're showing any signs of arousal in the waking world and if he even gives a single fuck about that right now. He doesn't, he decides a second later, because Gerard may be new to rimming but he's fairly certain Eames' tongue isn't that long and all the perverse possibilities of being in a dream seem even more wild and open than before. He's slurring Eames' name on his tongue, repeated like a prayer as he clenches around him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"Like this?" he asks softly beside Gerard's ear while both of his hands drop to his hips and from there to his thighs. "Where do you want me to touch?"
The question is followed by his lips mouthing the columns of Gerard's throat.
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"Oh God-" Gerard gasps, squirming against Eames like he's trying to crawl into his lap, to fuck himself on Eames' cock through his clothing. His own hands drag up to scratch marks up Eames' arms.
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Apparently they're not going to swimming just yet.
He lets Gerard guide his hands, push them between his legs to the sensitive inner thigh. He drags a little bit of the blunt line of his nails across the skin there and when Gerard shudders, he hums against his ear, low and soft.
"We need a bed before your legs will give out," he murmurs softly and makes sure that there is one to be found once they turn their heads towards the water. It stands on rocks at the shore, half in the body of the water. A decorative metal frame and muted dark grey sheets of crumbled linen.
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"Carry me?" Gerard half asks, half demands. Bold in assuming his legs aren't already having second thoughts about any kind of movement that isnt to work himself further against Eames. His hands just feel so good, though. The warmth and strength to them, the control, the callouses from his art - Gerard tries to commit all of it to memory, hoping he won't forget the feeling when he wakes.
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The sheets are soft and crumbled and have a scent of sleep on them, a little bit of a sunlight and fabric softener in the mix, like warm summer days spent in the sun, reading. This is a memory that Eames is mixing in with the dream. The bed makes the same sound as the metal framed sofa at the porch of his childhood as he lowers Gerard on it, groaning under their weight. (It's a strange detail given that he's lived in a concrete block all his youth.)
He scoots beside him onto the bed, propping his head up on one elbow while his other hand urges Gerard to turn onto his stomach. Then Eames proceeds to trail his fingers over that slender back, again and again, starting from the nape of Gerry's neck and sweeping over his back, down to his arse. He slides his fingertips to the crease beneath his glutes and down to his thighs, tracing the insides when he comes back up. He's patient and watches tremors run ahead of his fingers, following them where they go, finding all the sensitive spots on Gerard's body without even trying too hard.
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"Does everyone use this dream sharing for things like this?" he has to ask, breathless.
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He definitely takes his time, tracing every nook and cranny of Gerard's body with his fingertips, the undersides of his arms, his elbow creases, the rise of his hipbone and then up to describe his shoulder plates. He draws Gerard out with his fingertips, each inch of his skin equally explored.
Then he follows the light touches of his fingertips with his mouth, pressing warm, wet kisses on the expanses of Gerard's back and down towards his hips, over his perky arse. Between kisses he speaks quietly, slowly, taking his time to offer explanations.
"Dreamshare was developed for the army. And we spent quite a few years diving in as a team and learning how to shoot each other, how to kill and be killed, and then do it again the next night.
"I was very good at it, so I spent a lot of time with the unit, teaching new soldiers. But eventually it just wore me out. There were some people looking into the technology for other purposes. They were exploring the limits of it and some of it ended up being somewhat illegal.
"It's often used for information gathering. Secrets, you can learn those through dreams if you know what you're doing. Extractors give the target a place to hide their secrets, then they go and steal them.
"In the extreme and difficult cases, you can also plant ideas..."
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That it started as military isn't surprising - Eames was a former soldier, he had said as much, so of course if he was familiar with it this intimately.
"Are you trying to plant an idea right now?" He asks, breathless, looking over his shoulder at Eames. He rather thought Eames was trying to plant something else...
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They've done this before, teasing, ticklish touches, but this time there's a definitely sensual tilt to it.
"What kind of idea I would be planting?" he asks with fond amusement as he leans down to kiss Gerard's shoulder.
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"S'what I'm wondering," Gerry replies, breathless, "because I'm pretty sure I was already thinking of this.
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He leaves Gerard's dick and his arsehole well alone for now. Because he knows this is something Gerard doesn't get when he's awake, the touch on his bare skin that actually would feel like something other than pressure.
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The bed squeaks a little but Eames ignores it. He magics up a buttplug from his pocket and some lube, dropping them on the bed between Gerard's legs before he lets his tongue slip between those quivering cheeks and lap over Gerard's twitching hole.
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"Oh!" Gerard cries out, asshole eagerly submitting to Eames' tongue. "Fuck, Eames, please-"
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He's too busy for confirming or denying, however, with his tongue pressing flat against Gerard's hole, teasing and teasing, fluttering against it before he lets the tip of it press inside him, just a teasing little bit. His hands are busy spreading Gerard and after a moment he pulls up to wiggle his fingers invitingly. "Hands," he says and when Gerard surrenders them, Eames puts them on his his own cheeks. "Keep them spread for me, love," he says before he dives in there again, lapping the flat of his tongue over that puckered ring of muscle again and again.
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"Please - please, Eames, oh, fuck-"
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His hands work under Gerard, pulling his dick gently down between his legs and urges him to close his thighs. For a moment he thinks about ropes but discards the idea for now. They'll get to play around with all of that later.
When his tongue spears up again and dives into Gerard, it's probably a little longer and limber than what Gerard expected. This is a dream and Eames is free to play with physics as much as he wants.
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