"How could anyone not want you? You're beautiful," Cobb breathes into Arthur's ear. It's quiet and not like the dirty talk Arthur's ever heard (which is only from porn and, admittedly, a very unrealistic standard). It's so Dom, though, so even though it's quiet and rough it still sends a thrill through his body.
Dom's hips slam hard into him, bringing Arthur back to the present—bringing his eyes back to focus on their reflection in the mirror. Arthur on all fours, his hair a total mess and in his eyes and in his mouth and he just doesn't care, and behind him with hands gripping Arthur's hips tight is Dom. Dom who is in every way more beautiful than Arthur is. Who for some reason felt the need to execute this exercise to prove, that somehow to this unearthly creature, Arthur was as beautiful.
Arthur is rocking forward again as Dom moves, so slow but so good he burns with it. "You feel that, though?" Dom asks against his shoulder blade, lips dragging across Arthur's skin until there's a tongue in the divot of his spine. "They may want you, Arthur—"Arthur's body convulses at the sound of his name—"but they can't have you.
"Do you know why?" Arthur is having a hard time concentrating on Dom's words but he's making a heroic effort. He blinks sweat out of his eyes and shakes his head. Dom chuckles and Arthur's eyes are drawn back up to the mirror and his lover is smiling, staring down at his back before looking up. Their eyes meet in the glass, Dom's hands tighten, and Arthur feelsowned.
"Because you're mine." As Dom's hips begin to work in earnest, Arthur finds it hard to breathe. He can't stop watching Dom's eyes as they watch him back in the mirror, so full of need that maybe Arthur can believe that there is something in him that is beautiful. And, as that thought registers somewhere in his mind behind the hazy, heady cloud of pleasure, he is shocked to find himself coming.
Later, when he's stretching out on the sheets head tipped upside down over the edge of the mattress, he stares at his reflection. Arthur had always compared himself to Mal, who carried her perfection with such ease and grace. He had the ease, he had the grace but he had always thought he lacked the perfection. Had believed that Mal was the measuring stick Dom would constantly hold Arthur to.
He knew better now. He sits up and sees Dom asleep beside him, limbs akimbo and expression as serious as ever. Dom had let go of Mal, finally. Maybe it was time for Arthur to do the same.
(Poem: Kahlil Gabran)