Eames is perched on his usual bar stool, sipping on the tequila sunrise that's not quite strong enough for his liking. He would think that after years of telling the same sad fucking excuse for a bartender that he needs more alcohol in his drinks that the guy would get the hint. The Forger grumbles aloud about how he could make a better drink at home, glaring holes into the mirror behind the bar as he pulls down another giant swig. He's morose on this evening, deciding that sitting at home in his flat alone is just too unbearable after the last job. Suddenly and without warning, he feels that familiar tingle rise up his spine. That tiny signal that the only person that could coax a reaction out of him has returned, to the same bar they'd last seen each other in only weeks ago.
Arthur steps up to the bar, around the corner from Eames. He watches him order his drink and glare at the bartender when he receives it. When the bartender comes over to him, he orders a whiskey, not really caring about the content as much as something to keep him occupied. He didn't come to the bar tonight to drink as he has other plans, the whiskey just helps him follow through. Once he gets his drink, he glances over to Eames again and realizes the other man was looking right at him. The courage he had summoned up has suddenly disappeared. Fuck.
Arthur's suit is more than Eames can handle, even just sitting on the stool staring at him like a rabid dog about to strike. Black on black is his favourite of Arthur's choices, as it makes him look dangerous and deadly. He shifts on the stool, slightly adjusting his coat to cover his waist as he wonders if Arthur is carrying a weapon tucked in the small of his back. He hopes like hell he is; hopes to whatever god is out there listening that there is a Glock 17 tucked somewhere in that tight package Arthur is putting on. Eames slams back the rest of his drink and taps the glass back to the bar before licking his lips, never breaking focus on Arthur's brown gaze. He removes himself from the stool, adjusting his now hard cock in his pants before walking to the empty stool next to the Point Man.
Arthur watches Eames move like a predator across the bar, knowing full well he's the prey. The very thought both frightens and thrills him; he knows he wouldn't have shown up if it didn't. He wants Eames' any way he can have him, not caring about the consequences and emptiness that he knows will follow. He's like a drug he can't quit only more dangerous. Arthur throws back his whiskey quickly before Eames takes the stool beside him, reveling in the way it burns going down his throat. It brings him back to himself.
"Eames." He speaks matter-of-factly, his voice as steady and sure as it was on any job.
"Arthur." The greeting is more of a sneer than a polite gesture. Eames admires the other man's attire now that he's only a foot or so from him. The suit is cut perfectly and tailored as always, with the black silky material of his shirt and tie underneath akin to the darkest of midnights. In comparison to Eames' own attire, he looked like he fell out of the pages of GQ. He leans over, close to Arthur's ear where only he can hear the next few words that come out of his mouth.
"My car is out back in the lot. Be there in 5 minutes or your fucked."
Eames throws a few twenties on the bar, subsequently paying for his own tab and leaving a generous tip as he's not in the mood to bother with change. He rises coolly, making his way to the exit, hoping like hell Arthur will have the balls to follow him yet again. The Forger thinks back to the last time they were at this same bar, pinned against the filthy door of the bathroom, fucking like two madmen. The thought hits him like a sucker punch in the groin just as he reaches the black Aston Martin V12 Vantage and slips inside. He struggles as he adjusts himself, wanting nothing more than to grab up his cock and handle it himself before Arthur can arrive. Instead, Eames adjusts himself once more and waits in the darkness.
Hearing Eames say his name in that voice sent arousal through Arthur's body, settling in his groin. He swallows, reveling in the feeling of Eames' breath over his ear, his voice, low, threatening. If he isn't careful, he won't need to follow Eames out to his car. He watched the Forger walk off after throwing some money on the bar and slides off his own stool to follow. He knows he is going to get what he came for, if he only knew exactly what that is.
Arthur steps out of the bar, the cool air hitting his skin sending a chill down his spine. He runs his hands over his clothes, smoothing his jacket, touching the gun he keeps concealed at the small of his back. Once he has a moment to gather himself, he scans the parking lot before spotting Eames' car and walking toward it. It's black, dark, and dangerous; if any car fit it's owner, this one does. Arthur opens the passenger door and slides into the seat, closing the door behind him. The car smells new like it hasn't yet been broken in. Arthur wonders internally if tonight he may play a part in that process. He doesn't say anything, just watches Eames closely, wanting to know what plans the man has in store for him.
Eames hears Arthur slide into the tanned leather of the seat beside him, his intoxicating aroma filling up the cabin of the car as he sits in silence. No words are spoken as he fires up the car, revving up the engine before slamming it into first gear and squealing out of the parking lot. He shifts gears like its second nature, listening to the engine purr as he hits the highway at a blazing speed. Once he hits the empty HOV lane, he chances a glance at Arthur, who is staring at the vice like grip Eames has on the shifter.
"Imagining it's you darling?" Eames laughs darkly, stroking the knob just like he handled Arthur's cock a few weeks prior.
Arthur feels himself growing hard as he watches the way Eames handles the shifter. When Eames speaks the words that had been running through his mind, he tries to suppress a low moan. There's something about Eames tonight that's different; he can sense it and it excites him. He reaches down and runs his hand over the bulge in his pants, the light sensation of his own fingers through the fabric sending his breath out in a shaky gasp. He watches Eames' face closely, finding his voice.
"Where are we going?" He wants to sound skeptical, suspicious of Eames' intentions but fails miserably. He can hear the anticipation in his voice and it makes his stomach twist.
Eames tries to watch the road as Arthur licks his lips nervously and touches his hand to his leg before muttering out a question. The lust rages through his brain like a wildfire that he can't even compute what it was that his passenger has said. The only thing on his mind is blinding, all consuming need. Eames glances at the cluster of gauges in the dashboard quickly and scans ahead, seeing that they are still alone on this stretch of road. He spares Arthur a quick glance, smirking in mirth before he reaches for the fly of his pants to undo himself, freeing his hardness from the restraints of material.
"Arthur..." he all but hisses as he palms himself as he handled the shift knob only moments before.
Arthur's eyes widen as he watches Eames hand wrap around his cock. He can feel his own respond, aching to be touched but ignores his own in favor of Eames'. He reaches across the car, his fingers finding their way around Eames' erection, and he begins to move them along it roughly, listening for the other man's voice and being rewarded with a small gasp that the Forger couldn't subdue. He could feel the car gaining speed as Eames' body responds to his hands, but he can't seem to care. If anything, the speed heightens his senses, making the situation more thrilling. He trains his eyes on Eames' face, waiting for the reaction that he wants desperately to see.
"What do you want?" He asks, feeling brazen in his control over the other man's body.
Eames can't form the words needed to tell Arthur exactly what he's looking for as he grinds his teeth together and groans while the Point Man's hand works his lap. His knuckles start to turn white against the black steering wheel and his foot presses harder onto the gas peddle, torpedoing them through the night towards an unknown destination. He lifts his free hand to palm the back of Arthur's head to push him towards his cock. It will be luck if they can pull this off properly in the small cabin of the car without hitting the gear shifter. Arthur's head stops, his mouth breathing quick breaths on the head of his dick as he hesitates.
Arthur's heart is racing as he hadn't anticipated exactly where tonight was going. He had been hoping for another quick go in the bathroom at best. This...this isn't anything like he had imagined; this was much more. Eames had shoved his head down, his chest hitting the shifter hard, he can already feel a bruise forming on his ribs where it had hit. The pain sends another shiver through his body, making his breath come short and quick. His lips hover over Eames' cock, waiting for the man to make him touch him. Arthur feels Eames' hand again on the back of his head, pushing him down, forcing him to take the length of his dick in his mouth, sucking and licking the whole way down, until he can feel it pressing against the back of his throat. He moans as his head bobs up and down, feeling his throat vibrate against Eames' cock. He feels Eames tense under him and knows he has the other man close.
He moves his mouth off Eames' cock, paying attention to the head as he comes off, his tongue flicking over the tip. He stares up into Eames' face, watching him bite his lip. "Do you want me to make you cum?" Arthur asks, a devilish grin forming on his lips.
The words come out of Arthur's lips in the cockiest tone he's heard from the Point Man all night, and the urge rips through him to shove his head down to choke him on his dick, but he resists. He arches his hips up in a begging motion, watching as the speedometer climbs up over 110 miles per hour before he starts backing off on the speed. The last thing he needs is to slam his eyes shut as he cums and kill them both, though dying in the middle of an orgasm isn't a bad way to go. After readjusting the speed to a conservative 70, he looks down into Arthur's face for a moment, expressing his need with a fierce look and a stern grunt before looking up to the road ahead.
Arthur grins back at Eames before leaning over and taking his cock into his mouth again, making quick work of the other man. While one hand cradles Eames' balls, he moves his mouth along the shaft, drawing him over the edge. He hears Eames' breath coming in quick gasps as he finishes, Arthur swallowing down the cum, reveling in the taste of it on his tongue. After several moments, he feels the other man relax and he pulls off, leaning up to plant a lingering kiss on the Forger's mouth, before falling back into his seat, his focus now on his own aching erection.
Eames resists the urge to slam his eyes shut as he feels the Point Man's mouth pop off his cock, but refrains as it surely will led to disaster. He hears more than watches him fall back into his seat, rubbing the fabric against his leg. In the time they have been driving, they managed to make it far out of town where the highway is virtually dead at this hour. Eames tucks himself back into his pants, palms the shifter and moves towards the nearest exit to get off of the highway. He can see Arthur's eyebrow quirk in confusion in his peripheral vision, but chooses not to comment as he exits off onto what can only be known as the most miserable stretch of land outside of the city.
The road is dark and desolate, flat lands stretching out on either side of the pavement for miles. There's no one here at this time of night, and not even the street lamps dare to work in this part of town. The tires eat up the pavement as Eames shifts to gain speed towards the destination he has in mind. It feels like an eternity before Arthur decides to break the silence in the car.
Arthur waits for Eames to say something, anything. Instead he's met with a quick glance and silence. He can't help himself and starts running his hand over his pants, rubbing along his cock, wanting desperately for it to be Eames. He let's out a low moan, watching the way Eames is concentrating on the road, focusing on anything but him at the moment; he wants him to pay attention to him.
"If you don't hurry up, you're going to miss your opportunity." Arthur unbuttons his pants, and slides his hand inside, gasping at the feeling of his fingers wrapping around his cock.
The sound of a zipper grabs Eames' attention from the road as he watches Arthur shove a needy hand into his pants, grabbing at himself. A wave of heat washes over the car's interior as Arthur's gasp of longing escapes his lips. With a quick jerk of the wheel, Eames pulls the car off on to the shoulder, slamming on the brakes to stop the car. He tucks himself into his pants once more, killing the headlights before throwing open the driver's side door and getting out in a rush.
"Get the fuck out of my car," he growls menacingly to Arthur just before slamming the door, rocking the entire car with the force. He storms to stand in front of the car's nose, moonlight the only light illuminating his body in the inky blackness of the night.
Arthur groans when Eames stops the car, knowing that finally Eames got the urgency. He watches him storm out of the car, slamming the car door so hard the noise momentarily shocks him, his voice a growl that hits him in the pit of his stomach, making his cock ache even more. He slides his pants over his erection just enough to keep it covered as he stands out of the car, slamming his own door behind him. He meets Eames at the front of the car, staring at the hood, imagining Eames throwing him down and fucking him hard against it. He lets out a ragged huff of air before looking into Eames' face, his own features set hard, a challenge. Go on, fuck me, they said.
The crunch of the gravel as Arthur gets out the car followed by the door slam sends a shiver up Eames' spine. He's still amped on the amount of adrenaline running through his system, despite the orgasm he just had moments before. The release hadn't even phased the high he was riding, just as it hadn't that faithful night in the club's bathroom. Something about Arthur intoxicated the Forger like a strong hit of heroine, something he couldn't come down from until the drug left his body.
Arthur stood in the darkness, his shirt untucked from where his pants were still undone from his personal rousing in the car. His eyes look black and hungry, a glint of moonlight reflecting off of the surface as they stare each other down across the short distance between them. The moan bubbles up from Arthur's chest before Eames lunges at him, almost attacking the man's clothing as he grips him tightly, pulling him into his chest before smashing his lips to Arthur's. Eames is not gentle as he presses his mouth against his lover's own; he roughly scrapes his teeth across the bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth to suckle as he shoves a rough palm into Arthur's pants to hold him. The kiss is greedy and urgent, hungry and desperate as force the Forger uses is inching Arthur back towards the car.
After a long moment of groping Arthur, completely disheveling his clothing, Eames picks him up, virtually slamming him into the hood of his favorite car. The engine underneath is still running, making the metal hot under Arthur's back. Eames is sure that he's concaved the metal, but at this point is too determined an insatiable to give a fuck. He looks down at Arthur, who's clearly still recovering from the none to gentle landing, completely ready to devour him right here in the open.
Arthur gasps when Eames slams him onto the hood of the car, the force knocking the air from his lungs. He coughs, trying to catch his breath. He reaches a hand under his back, where the gun he had earlier is lodged painfully between his back and the hood of the car. He pulls out the gun, feeling it scratch the already dented hood, and aims it at Eames. He presses the end of the barrel against the center of Eames' chest, hard enough that he knows it must hurt. His cock is out, and needing to be touched, but he wants something more.
"Fuck me Eames," he says, his words laced with venom, surprising him by the intensity of his own voice. With his free hand, he pulls Eames to him by the fabric of his shirt, his lips pressing to the Forger's ear. "I want you to make me scream." He pushes the man's face away, disgust on his face masking his true feelings.
Eames stares into Arthur's wild eyes and then looks to the gun pushed into his sternum, making his cock jump in his pants. Any other person would back away, any other person would run screaming like a little bitch off into the night. Oh no... not Eames. He pushes the barrel further into the fabric separating his skin from the metal, challenging Arthur to pull the trigger. The thrill of possible death pushed his head rush even further as he gripped the fabric of Arthur's pants, nearly ripping them down his legs. Arthur's gun never moved and his grimace never faltered.
He tore his fly open once more, shoving the pants and undergarments to the ground before spitting in his hand to rub the saliva across his already hard dick. He slicked the muscle quickly, giving it a few tugs before spreading Arthur's arse cheeks wide and lining up with his entrance.
"You want me to make you scream?" he taunted with a smirk, pushing the head of his dick in quickly. He repeated the line again, shoving more of himself inside of the other man's body, listening as his suspenders scraped against the paint of his car.
Arthur hisses through his teeth, holding in the moan when Eames presses inside him. He won't let Eames win that easily. He pushes against Eames in response, urging him to go deeper, harder. His body trembles with the pain and arousal as he can barely hold the gun in his hand any longer. He closes his eyes and takes a slow breath before pressing the gun harder into Eames' chest, wanting to cause him more pain. As Eames presses in him again, Arthur gasps out, narrowing his eyes, "I'm still waiting."
The jab comes out of Arthur's mouth like a sword, but Eames pushes on, grabbing onto Arthur's hips for balance and to shove the last of him inside of Arthur's arse. He looks down at the Point Man spread across the vibrating hood with a gun pointed straight at his heart. He can only imagine the power trip for him is similar to the one Eames experienced when overtaking Arthur before. The hum of domination burning through your veins while your partner breaks and submits.
Eames won't let him win, because submission is not in the Forger's nature. He withdraws his cock almost to the tip and slams back into the cavity with little to no warning other than the tightening pull on the skin and fabric at the other man's hips. Arthur's back arcs up off of the metal as Eames continues to pound into him ruthlessly, giving him every inch of pressure and then some as he leans into the barrel of the gun. He can't help but stare down into Arthur's face, daring him to try and stay silent.
Arthur suppresses another gasp when Eames drives hard into him again, pressing his own body against the barrel of the gun and his cock deep into Arthur's ass. But when he does it again, Arthur is finding it harder to remain silent. He's pressing back, his free hand finding his erection and beginning to pump furiously at it while Eames is driving into him. He knows he's close, and his jaw is hurting from clenching. He wants nothing more than to finish.
The look in Eames' face is finally what does him in, the challenging glare. He cries out as Eames pushes into him one last time.
"FUCK... Eames!" The name spills from his lips out into the darkness and he knows that Eames has won the game.
Pulling Arthur's ass to meet his thighs, Eames hears his name fall out of the Point Man's mouth in a cry of ecstasy just before he lets go, toppling over the edge of his orgasm. As the muscles of his lover's arsehole clench around Eames' cock, Eames himself explodes, shattering into a million fragments in his mind as he cries out into the night.
The gun is still pressing into his chest as Eames nearly collapses in exhaustion on top of Arthur. He reaches for the barrel, removing the metal from between them as he withdraws from the warm body and pulls his pants back up to cover himself. He offers a hand to assist Arthur off of the completely marred hood of his Aston Martin. He can't be bothered to give a shit as he assesses the damage done, the scrapes and the massive indention in the center.
Arthur dresses quickly but slightly wobbling from a mixture of the drink at the bar and the exhaustion that plagues the both of them. He coolly tucks his shirt in before shoving the gun back into it's hidden place and smoothing out his hair and clothes. The look that he gives Eames is an expectant one, as he's sure that Eames will no doubt leave him out here to find a way home, much like he did at the club so many weeks ago; it was in the Forger's nature.
Eames walks to the driver's door of the car, opening it and staring down the Point Man.
"Are you coming, darling?" Arthur is sure that the look that crosses his face before getting back into the vehicle is akin to a deer in the headlights.
The pair drive off, heading back in the direction of the highway, though nearly not as fast as the speed in which they took to get here. Eames shifts silently as Arthur watches his hand movements and smiles inwardly. Once they hit the highway back to the city, the car's engine protests at the speed, more than likely due to damage. Arthur quirks his eyebrow as something begins to rattle under the hood. Eames is the first to break the silence.
"While I thoroughly enjoyed the night, love, I have to inform you that you do owe me a new car now," he smirks involuntarily, hoping the seriousness sticks through.
Arthur does nothing but smile in his seat. After a few brief moments he finally speaks, laughing in jest as he does so. "You do realize I'm the one with the gun, right? And last I checked, this was your idea."
Eames could only laugh as he recalled his original plans for the evening.
The Point Man actually had a point.
-the end-
