Note to readers: Hey everyone! So sorry it took me an extra day to get this up. I had a paper due today so I pulled an all-nighter yesterday night. It was brutal. I must remind myself that I never want to do that again. Blegh. Being awake for a total of 28 and ½ hours is not conducive to one's health. But anyways. Here's the second to last part of Grumpy Pants everyone! And just as a heads up, the final bit is a full length part, around 2500 words. So don't think that things just end here.
I slam the door to my apartment, my body a tight jitter of nerves. Fuck! I toss the plate of pie onto the counter as I head into the kitchen. My hand is trembling as I click on the kettle. I need tea, right this instant. If I don't have it, I will murder someone. I will go to the nearest psyche ward and put every last suicidal maniac out of their misery. My foot taps along with my fingers as I wait for the kettle to boil. Pinky, ring, middle, pointer, thumb, thumb, pointer, middle, ring, pinky: over and over my hands tap out the rhythm as if that will somehow bring my mind back to reality. Said fingers are hitting the surface of the counter so hard, I wonder if it will leave bruises. I am inclined not to give a shit. With a snarl, I force myself away from the kettle to go grab a tea packet. After an eternity of waiting, the water is finally boiling. I pour it into my teacup then go to find my sugar.
The sugar bowl is sitting in its normal spot in the pantry, thank Jesus. My still quaking hands grasp for it. Oh, my, God. I watch with unbridled horror as the dish slips through my numb fingers and crashes to the floor, breaking into a million crystalline pieces. My sugar is on the floor. NO! SUGAR! I let out a roar and then proceed to check every cupboard for the sugar that I know is not there. I haven't gone shopping yet this week so the sugar on the floor may very well be the last remnants of my bag. I slam each consecutive cupboard door harder and harder until the very last one cracks and hangs by one measly hinge. "GOD DAMN IT!" I start kicking the lower cupboards, ignoring the pain that shoots through my leg as I continue to kick in a mindless fury. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', huh? Maybe it should read instead, 'Hell hath no fury like a cracked man in denial.' The cry that emits from my throat is anything but human. Knowing my luck, I'll get the cops called on me for it. By the time my shaking body takes a break from its demented rampage, I am panting and pain is throbbing in my foot like a monstrous disease.
The issue now, of course, is that even though I am done raging, I'm still just standing here. I honestly don't know what to do with myself. The fury is coiled within me like an asinine fire, ready to consume me at a moment's notice. "Arthur," I snarl. "You did this. This is entirely your fault! Shit! Fuck! Damn it!"
I hear a noise, an incessant little noise that makes me want to hiss. I turn an enraged look at the door. There it is again. Someone is trying to be buzzed up. Curse you, Ariadne! Can't you just leave me well enough alone? Let me lick my wounds in peace! I stomp over to the telecom like the spoiled brat I am and hit the switch to buzz her in. Even as a wretched, miserable sod, I can't keep her out. Walking back into the kitchen, I give my tea mug the most offensive look imaginable. "This is your fault. You and your bloody fucking sugar." I take the mug over to the sink and watch morosely as the tea spills down the drain. Ugh. I want some bloody tea!
There's a knock on the door. "The door's unlocked!" I bark. Ariadne and her blasted concern. She needs to—I'm hallucinating. I am for sure hallucinating. Somebody call me a doctor!
"Hey Eames," he says quietly as he shuts the door behind him.
The sound of his voice brings me crashing back to the veracity of the world. "You," I hiss, "bloody BASTARD!" I grab my tea mug and chuck it at him as hard as I can.
A thrill goes through me as I watch him duck aside easily. "What the hell, Eames?"
"How dare you come here?" I continue on. "You just traipse in here as if you are actually allowed? Get the hell out of my apartment! How did you even find my apartment in the first place?"
He scuffs his foot against the ground with a scowl. "I asked Ariadne. Listen, Eames. I really would like to talk."
"Too late. Get out."
His eyes shine at the challenge and my body tingles at his expression. "No. I am not going to leave. Not until we talk through this."
"Now you want to talk? You're gone for a whole fucking year and now you want to talk?" His lips thin and I chuckle bitterly. "Just get out, Arthur. Just go."
"No," he growls. "I'm not going to go. As I said, not until you listen to what I have to say." He is firm with his demand, as he always is. Stubborn, ferocious, and striking.
I take a shaky breath and reply, "Why should I, Arthur? Why the bloody fucking hell should I listen to anything you have to say? You can't rewrite the past year. You can't fix our," I let out a harsh bark of a laugh before finishing, "friendship."
Arthur's eyes pierce me from across the room. "Please," he murmurs softly.
My heart twists at the word. Arthur so rarely asks for permission. For him to be doing so tears at me and makes me want to give him anything he desires. Anything. "Alright, fine. Tell me what you want to say then leave."
"I made a mistake."
WHAT? "What do you mean?" I spit at him.
I watch as he slowly walks into the kitchen area and towards me. "I thought that if I let you go, that I could prevent myself from getting hurt." His dark gaze bears down upon me. I cannot move. "I thought that it would only be a matter of time before you would let go of me, before you would want someone else, before you would tire of me and find someone else to entertain yourself with."
I see red. I punch that lovely face of his and fall upon him like a mad man. Perhaps I am one already and just haven't realized it. The two of us are rolling around on the floor together, punching, kicking, clawing, anything we can get our hands on. Despite being the smaller man though, he eventually is able to roll out from my grasp and stand back up. I wipe blood off my chin and glare up at him. "You thought to presume how I felt. You thought I was just entertaining myself with you?" I bluster. "I loved you. I asked you to move in with me for Christ's sake! Just how much clearer could I have been with my intentions? Jesus, Arthur! "
For the first time this evening, his face literally crumbles. His eyes widen and his breath quickens as if he were fighting every instinct not to just collapse upon the ground. So much pain, so much fear, so much longing shines in that one single look. My heart quivers to see it. "I know," he whispers. "I thought that if I kept my distance from you that my feelings would go away, that I would forget you. But I can't. And I haven't been able to for the past year. I want you to give us another chance."
I quickly stand back up. Growling low in my throat, I reply, "Absolutely not. You'll just run away again like last time."
He shakes his head vehemently. "No, not this time. I will do whatever it takes to make you see that I am serious. I will make this right even if it kills me."
I lunge forward and grab onto the labels of his jacket. I slam that lean body back against the counter and snarl into his face, "You can't make this right. All the pretty words in the world aren't going to make this right."
He pushes against my chest. I slam him back harder. He comes back at me, using all the strength he has to shove me away. I stumble back and watch him straighten his jacket, one of his many OCD habits. Oh no you don't you wretch! I leap at him and we're fighting all over again. Shoving, punching, pushing, and hitting the counters, the cupboards, and eventually the fridge. Sometime during all this, Arthur has somehow gained the upper hand. My Lord, I really need to work on my fighting skills. He has me shoved up against the fridge his brown eyes alight with fire. We stand there for long moments staring at each other and panting heavily with emotional fervor. His gaze continues to hold mine steady as he leans in. I freeze.
"Eames, I love you," he whispers softly. "Pleaseplease please take me back." He does not give me the time to think up a response. With a quick jerk, Arthur pulls us together and slams his lips against mine, the taste of our blood mixing in our joined mouths. Oh Christ. I moan, opening my mouth to let him in. It doesn't matter how many times my brain tries to tell me this is a bad idea; I still twist my hands into his jacket and crush him to me. My body screams out with want. His tongue plunges into my mouth and I let him explore every corner and every crevice. God, I've missed this.
But after several long minutes of fighting, dueling with our tongues, I grow impatient. This is not enough. It's been too long since I've been able to touch him, too long since I've been able to feel him. I want his skin against mine. I want him naked. With that destination in mind, I start pushing at his jacket. He lets go long enough to let me push it down to his forearms, where he then flings it off into the unholy mess that has become my kitchen. But as our hands scramble over each other I find that these other layers are a massive annoying hindrance. Arthur seems to agree with my sentiments, seeing as he is whimpering with aggravation. His hands fisting into the front of my shirt, Arthur rips the fabric open, smiling against my lips as the buttons ping against the wall. Long fingers caress my bare skin causing a shudder to run through me. I exhale shakily, knowing that I fully intend to give him the same treatment.
I go for his shirt, unbuttoning it so swiftly that I surprise myself. I didn't even know that it was possible to unhook a shirt in that short of a time. I am brilliant is what I am! Eames: 1. Shirt: 0. I feel his soft, hard skin under my fingertips and the heat pools in my groin. His breath hitches against my mouth as I run my hands up his chest and across his nipples. Mmm. God but Arthur is a filthy, torturous bastard. He nips down on my bottom lip, and sucks it roughly into his mouth. Behind me, his nails are scraping gently up and down my spine, forcing a moan as gooseflesh breaks out along my arms. I can feel him shaking against me, as he pants hotly in my ear. "I need you inside me right. Fucking. Now," he breathes. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. This is officially the hottest sex of my life, and I'm not even balls deep in that sweet, hot… My trousers need to be off. My trousers need to be off now. As if reading my mind, Arthur slides his hands down my back until the tips of his fingers are resting beneath my waistband. He slides them around until he reaches the button, and deftly flicks it open with an expert finger. My trousers fall open, leaving his palm to catch on the outside of my pants. Placing my hand over his, I press our joined palms against my erection. A jolt runs down his entire frame when he feels my hardness. Oh, darling, we have barely even begun.
Arthur pulls back, toes off his shoes, and drops his trousers and pants to the floor in one swift jerk. When the hell did he accomplish getting the damn things open? I shake my head. Who fucking cares? Arthur, my Arthur, is standing here naked in my kitchen. Oh sweet Jesus it must be my birthday. I stare down at his throbbing cock and a growl rumbles through my chest. "Get on the bloody table, Arthur."
He immediately obeys, stepping over to the table and hopping up onto the offending surface. There is a wide smile on his face. "There's lube in the right hand pocket of my coat."
I cock an eyebrow at that. Seriously? I step gingerly across the kitchen tiles and kneel down to shift through his coat. My eyes widen when I pull out the small packet. "You brought lube to the dinner with you?" I make it a question.
The look he gives me is utterly brazen and perhaps a tad bit smug. "One must always be prepared."
I slowly walk over to the table and stand between his open legs. He brought lube because he was hoping this would happen. My bits twitch with a satisfied cheer at the thought. "Lay back," I command him, my eyes glittering darkly.
Yet again, as always, he takes direction like a pro. I take a good few moments to look at his mused hair, his swollen lips, and his burning eyes. This is all mine. It should have always been mine. He is mine, damn it! I push my pants and trousers down my thighs to free my cock. Ripping open the packet in my hand, I let the lube spill onto my fingertips. Without any words being spoken, he lifts his legs and wraps one heel around my shoulder while planting the other foot upon the table. Fuck that's hot. There is no more time to wait. I shove my first finger in and watch as his head falls back against the wood. As I move the digit around, I am struck by something peculiar. Huh? "You aren't nearly as tight as I would have expected." The thought brings me to a halt. Who else has Arthur been with? How many other men have fucked what is mine?
His eyes open languidly and that wonderful smile comes back onto his lips. "Well, I had to prepare myself, didn't I?"
"What?" I choke out.
His tongue flicks out to wet his lips and a light blush races over his cheeks. "I haven't had sex once since I left. Not with anyone."
If that isn't the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life! My cock seems to agree. With a snarl, I shove in two fingers and listen to the gorgeous moan that leaves that devilish mouth. I want him to know. I want him to know just what he gave up when he left me. "I haven't either." His eyes pop wide open. I can't help but chuckle at the stunned expression on his face. I thrust in a third finger and he snaps his lips closed. "Relax, darling. Relax." I can almost see the conscious effort on his face as he works to release one muscle at a time. Now if only I can find it. I reach around with my fingers and curl experimentally until I hear the sound of his sucked in breath and feel his body spasm around my fingers. Ah, there she be, sweet beautiful prostate.
I run my fingers over the spot several more times until I hear a whimper. "Eames." I focus on his eyes again to find them wild and dazed. "Now. If you don't do it now I won't be able to bend over for you later. I know how much you love that."
My body trembles just at the mere thought of it. But wait. Oh shit. "Condom," I rasp. "We need a condom."
"No," he whispers, eyes trained on me, "now. I trust you, Eames. No one but you. No one."
My heart stutters at the implication. How could he have ever let me go? How did I ever survive this past year? With a curse, I grab the packet and squeeze the remainder out, rubbing it gently over my over-sensitized prick. I line myself up and push his leg out wider. "Ready?" I whisper.
"Always," he replies.
I plunge in. Oh, sweet Mary and Joseph! My eyes roll back into my skull. So tight. So bloody fucking tight. Peeling my eyes open I look down at my prize. Eyes scrunched tightly closed and body tensed, Arthur is panting, moaning, squirming around my cock. My legs begin to shake as I work not to move, not to give in. His eyes pop open and he glares at me. "Move!" I shake my head. He needs to know exactly how it feels, exactly how hard it's been for me living every day of this past year….without him. I watch with grim satisfaction as his expression shifts. I can tell that he knows precisely why I'm punishing us. "Please," he begs me. "Please. I'll do whatever it takes. For however long it takes." I stare at him a moment longer, my body screaming at me, burning with its desire. I want him so badly that I'm inches away from fucking him senseless on my kitchen table, but at the same time, I know that if he leaves me again I will literally go into my bedroom, lie down, and never get up again.
Arthur reaches up and wraps himself around me, impaling himself further on my thick shaft. I growl and struggle to hold onto my thoughts as he shifts around me. I'm on the verge of giving in and pounding him through the table, when I hear it. "Marry me," he says. "Marry me and be with me forever."
Then I pull back, and plunging forward with a grunt, I begin to move. There are no words to describe such a feeling. There are no words to describe the joy and pleasure as you move within someone and their body responds back in kind. I angle myself in deeper and cry out as Arthur's body twitches around me. "Eames," I hear his voice as if from a distance, "harder." When I comply, he groans with me, nails leaving deep, red furrows down my forearms. "Oh the things I'm going to do to you later," he mumbles.
I manage to grunt, "Tell me."
"I-I'm, oh, I'm going to ride you." Oh yes, I would like that. "And suck you." Even better. "And, and," he lets out a long moan, back arching to pull me in deeper, "and let you pound me into the bed until morning." Shit!
The orgasm roars over me in a wave. My world whitens and I recognize the loud shout as my own. While I shudder, Arthur tightens around me, body arching and voice howling out my name. "Eames!"
My world comes back to me slowly. I'm crushing Arthur's body to my table, which now that I think about it, I'm surprised has withstood such an ordeal. Arthur's legs are wrapped around me, holding me in, whilst his hands skim underneath my open shirt and over every curve of my back. Sighing, I drop my face into the curve of his neck and bite down. His breath hitches as I worry the skin between my teeth. "I'm going to mark every damn inch of your body. By the time morning comes, you won't be able to walk to the fucking door."
A deep chuckle rumbles out of him. "I'd very much like to see you try."
I growl playfully and bite down again. Oh yes, that is going to leave one very pretty mark. Wait. I hear something. Uhh—what the hell is that? Then it hits me. My damn phone is ringing. Who the hell is trying to ruin my life? I have a perfectly debauched Arthur in my control and someone is ringing me? With a snarl, I push myself up, nearly whimpering as my flaccid cock pops free. Arthur's legs fall on either side of me as I fumble to reach into the pocket of my trousers. A-ha! I successfully free my phone and hold it up. I'm not sure if the powers that be are with me or not. Arthur sits up instantaneously, a delightfully furious expression on his face. He rips the phone from my hand and twists on the spot. Just what the hell is he doing? I stand there and watch him bemusedly because really, I'm not sure if I care what he's up to. His eyes continue to pan the kitchen area until he finds an open window. Arthur eyes it appreciatively and then proceeds to chuck my precious mobile clear out the window. "What the hell?"
His turns back around and I see that his lips are set into a thin, hard line. "There are going to be no distractions tonight. No one is going to bother us. I get you all to myself. No work, no friends. Just you and me."
I can't help myself. I laugh. "Arthur, I love you."
His expression softens as he reaches out and pulls me against his body. "I love you too." His tone lowers and I hear a sliver of hesitation enter his voice, "Does that mean 'yes'?"
My lips widen into a satisfied grin whilst my head rests on his chest. "Oh yes," I say against his heart. "Oh yes."
