Arthur hadn't been eagerly listening out for Eames arrival home, per se. He just had very good hearing, that's all.
At the first scrape of his key in the front door, Arthur was up off the couch, almost forgetting to be quiet, lest he wake Edie and incur her wrath. His book lay forgotten behind him and he nearly trampled Peppa in his eagerness to reach the hallway first. Peppa was a total daddy's boy when it came to his boyfriend, so Arthur usually had to show his face first, before the pup distracted him with his fat little belly and excited yaps.
He'd spent the last hour and a half winding himself into a near frenzy. He'd tried to remain focused on the novel in his lap, but as usual, Eames managed to sneak his way inside his head and put down roots. Arthur had mentally gone through the various scenarios he wanted them to engage in, in detail, having to bite down on moans and breathy whimpers when his writer's imagination vividly painted some of the filthier scenes in his mind's eye. He'd very nearly cum in his pants like a teenager when one of his favourite scenes replayed itself, over and over. It ironically involved Eames pushing him to the edge of orgasm for hours, not allowing him to find release, until he was half mad, twisting the bed sheets in his hands, voice hoarse from his cries, near exhaustion, but loving every second because all his senses could grasp was Eames. Nothing but Eames. He'd take care of Arthur eventually. He always did. But the lead up was nothing short of spectacular.
He quickly pulled himself back to the present. Eames was here now. He had little use for his imagination anymore, not when he was inches away from the real thing.
Eames had rushed from the office as soon as he could. He'd forced himself to work extra hard all day, just so he could leave at a reasonable hour. For the second time that week, he'd swept out with the masses, instead of wearily trudging past security as the quiet of the building bore down on him.
He was home now though. The front door being the last barrier between him and his darling.
Eames kind of hoped to find Arthur dozing on the couch again. Loose and relaxed, smelling like baby powder and beautifully sleep mussed.
His thoughts were quickly interrupted though when upon entering the house he was quickly set upon. In a flurry of long limbs and dark hair, Arthur lunged at him, legs taut around his waist and arms around his neck, forcefully bringing their lips together. His brain quickly caught up with him and he let his briefcase drop to the floor with a loud clatter, so he could return the tight embrace and roughly lick his way into Arthur's mouth, coaxing a relieved gasp out of his perfect little mouth.
"God, I've been waiting to do that all day." Arthur moaned, resting his forehead against Eames'.
Eames chuckled, lowering his hands to cradle Arthur's arse.
"You're a sight for sore eyes, gorgeous." He smiled, kneading the firm muscle under his hands.
They stayed like that for a short while, tenderly kissing and nuzzling, before Eames remembered he hadn't seen or heard the baby yet. He craned his neck and quizzically cast an eye into the living room. Arthur seemed lost in his own thoughts, brushing his nose along Eames' pulse point, sighing contently.
"Darling, where's Edie?"
Arthur slowly glanced up at him, eyes half lidded and mouth quirked into a soft grin.
"Sleeping… I thought we might take advantage and steal a few minutes for ourselves, before she woke up."
His voice was all innocence, but his eyes were dancing with barely concealed hunger.
Before he could reply, Arthur had already begun to slide their lips together, teasingly caressing Eames tongue with soft licks.
"Are you sure she won't wake?" Eames breathed, trying to resist the devilish seduction and at least attempt a responsible reply. His body was all too willing to throw caution to the wind though as he was almost achingly hard already from Arthur's simple presence.
"Mm...m'sure…come on…" Arthur moaned, tugging him deeper into his mouth.
Eames didn't have enough coherent thought left in him to argue; instead he clung tighter to Arthur and carried him down the hall and into the laundry room, one hand drifting up into the back of Arthur's hair, pulling his head back roughly to suck and bite at his throat. If Arthur had been in his right mind, he would have stifled the loud sobs pushing their way out of his mouth, but secretly Eames was glad he was too aroused to think straight.
Once they reached the small room off the kitchen, Eames pushed the door closed behind them, reluctantly pulling away and patting Arthur's backside, indicating for him to release his legs from around his waist. Arthur groaned from the loss, but as soon as Eames viciously gripped his hips and pushed his pants and underwear down, his breath hitched and he rushed to hungrily pull at Eames pants too.
Eames caught his wrists quickly though, and he shook his head purposefully slow, his mouth curling into a predatory grin.
"Bend over the dryer. I want to see that pretty little arse of yours first." Eames growled.
Arthur's whole body visibly shook and his eyes glazed over at the command. It took him a second for his legs to catch up with his brain, but he obediently stretched over the appliance, arching his back and pushing his rear out for Eames approval. He looked over his shoulder, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, waiting.
Eames wished he could take longer to appreciate the view, but he was too hot, too hard and Arthur looked too fucking delicious for him to draw this out. He let himself grasp Arthur's cheeks in his hands, groping the soft, warm flesh and pulling them apart lightly, just to hear his darling whimper.
"Fuuuck, Arthur. Your arse." He moaned deeply, before getting to his knees and licking firmly across the tight furl of his hole.
Arthur immediately jerked forwards, a cry escaping him.
Eames didn't wait for him to calm down as he continued, lapping and sucking at the quivering muscle; saliva already coating the lower half of his face and dripping down from the crack of Arthur's arse onto his thighs.
Arthur's breath left him in broken sobs and wails as Eames brutally shoved his tongue into him, stroking as much skin as he could. He could feel Arthur was already dangerously close to climaxing, but he didn't want that just yet.
He replaced his tongue with two fingers as he stood back up. Arthur was breathing heavily against the dryer, quiet groans of indignation leaving him.
"Shh, don't worry darling. I'm not going to leave you empty." Eames soothed, stretching Arthur open slowly.
"Oh, please… I've been so good. Need it…need your cock so bad." Arthur begged, squirming backwards onto Eames fingers, trying to take them in further.
Eames swallowed thickly and clawed at his pants, pulling them down his thighs. He lined himself up behind Arthur, slipping his cock between his cheeks, brushing against his sensitive hole and coating himself until he was nice and wet, before smoothly thrusting into Arthur. They both shouted out in relief as Eames bottomed out, hips snugly resting against Arthur.
"God, you were made for my cock, weren't you love? You take it so beautifully…so open for me," Eames croaked.
"Feels good…" Arthur whimpered back, reaching for his own forgotten dick.
"Give me your hands." Eames ordered instantly.
Arthur immediately folded his arms behind his back for Eames to take hold of, his eyes flashing up to Eames, pupils blown and gaze unfocused.
As soon as Eames tightly seized Arthur's wrists, he pulled out then plunged back in to him, setting a brutal pace. His grip on the other man's arms gave him enough leverage to fuck him fast and deep, causing every moan from Arthur to warble. The dryer banged loudly as Arthur was roughly pounded against it and combined with the wet sound of his dick slamming into him, their shouts were barely audible.
"Fuck. Fuck. M'close…" Arthur cried out, voice wrecked.
Eames slowed down a little, grinding as hard as he could against Arthur's prostate as he neared his own orgasm.
"Come for me, darling." He pleaded.
Arthur howled as his climax tore through him. His whole body tensed and his inner muscles clamped around Eames, milking every drop of cum from him as he thrust twice more and came; his own scream of pleasure reverberating around the small room.
Eames released Arthur's arms as he fell against his back, unsteady on his legs.
They both breathed harshly for a minute, gathering themselves.
Arthur reached back a moment later, tapping Eames on the thigh. He prised himself off the smaller man's back, forgetting that he was probably crushing him with his dead weight.
Once Arthur pulled himself to his feet, he reached for Eames, nuzzling against his chest and pressing a few kisses to his lips.
"Shit, that was really hot." He breathed, locking his eyes with Eames.
Eames pulled him closer, arms around his waist, humming in agreement.
"You were amazing." He grinned, pressing a kiss to one of Arthur's dimples.
"I was, wasn't I." He preened, eyes full of mirth.
Eames laughed, a low rumble in his chest as he surveyed the damage to the laundry room. It wasn't too bad, although the plaster board behind the dryer had a massive dent in it and would need repairing now.
Arthur noticed the damage too, but seemed almost proud.
"How about you go on upstairs and take a shower, while I clean up in here." Eames offered, as he tucked himself back into his pants.
"Why don't you come and join me, Mr. Eames?" Arthur countered.
"As much as I'd love to pet, I know that if I go upstairs with you now, I may never return. Such is your insatiable appetite,"
"People in glass houses Eames." He laughed.
"That as well may be, darling..." He chuckled. "…but one of us should really stay down here with the baby, otherwise we'll go upstairs and get lost in each other, then who knows when that poor child might see us again."
Arthur pouted, but his brain was coming back online bit by bit and he knew Eames was right. It was nearly dinner time and Edie would soon be raising hell.
"Okay babe. But I want fifteen minutes of uninterrupted making out on the couch later… deal?" Arthur asked as he tugged his shirt off and padded down the hallway to the stairs, hips swaying hypnotically.
And really. How could Eames deny him?