eternalsojourn

I'm pretty sure this is Ashley's fault again. I don't really remember much except that I was a bit drunk and writing something else entirely (bottom!Eames) when this seemed like a good idea instead.

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: ~2700
Warnings: None
Beta: night_reveals, who reads all my shit even when she's not in the mood, because she's the bestest forever and ever, amen.
Summary: Arthur kisses then fucks his projection of himself while Eames gives instructions from the sidelines, the end. Or, if you prefer the longer, thinkier, more descriptive version, read on.

Tapping Arthur’s Subconscious

“A hotel, really?” Eames asked as he arranged the PASIV between them on a small table.

“I like hotels,” Arthur said a little defensively.

“Well, wherever you’re most comfortable,” Eames said with a tilt of his head. Where this was going he had to make sure Arthur was at ease from the start, because in a short time Arthur wouldn’t be calling the shots at all.

Arthur twitched a frown, then looked at Eames thoughtfully. “No, you’re right. Okay, you’ve seen my room.”

“The one in Paris?” Eames raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, that’s... yeah. My room. Do that one.”

Eames smiled, then slipped the cannula into Arthur’s arm and Arthur sat back, expression eager, eyes smiling. Eames inserted his own and settled down. He depressed the button.

***

Arthur’s projection of himself was waiting on the edge of the bed, sitting casually in a t-shirt and trousers, calm and clear-eyed. “You two look nervous,” he said and Eames raised his eyebrows. Leave it to Arthur’s projection of himself to cut through the niceties.

“We’re not,” Arthur said, and his fingers drifted across Eames’s arse affectionately before stepping forward and running his hand down the projection’s shoulder. “Hm. You have a point, though. If I was truly relaxed, I don’t think I’d dream you up fully clothed like this.”

“How can we get you more comfortable, then?” Eames asked, willing to take the time to get Arthur fully on board. It would be worth it.

“I’ve never done this before. Maybe. Maybe we could start with the two of you, and then I can join in,” Arthur said, pragmatic, considering.

Before giving Arthur a chance to think it over too much, Eames crowded in and bent to kiss Arthur’s projection, who tilted up and kissed back greedily. The projection uttered a helpless little sound, one that Arthur himself only ever got to after hours of loosening up. Evidently Arthur’s subconscious was ready enough for the events to come.

Arthur knelt in between the projection’s legs, bringing his face close to where Eames and the projection were joined. He stroked the hair behind Eames’s ear, then drew his thumb over Eames’s cheekbone and watched them kiss. He bent in and nosed first at Eames, and then at his own image before urging Eames into a kiss. The projection was content to watch for a moment but soon he was pushing his way in and licking at both of them, all three tongues caressing each other. It was a little awkward, but had all three of them closing their eyes and furrowing their brows at the newness of it.

Eames withdrew slowly, but didn’t go far, opting to work his way down Arthur’s jaw and burrowing into his neck while Arthur carried on kissing his own projection of himself. Arthur gripped Eames’s thigh, as though to keep him there, or to anchor himself. His body was slightly tense but he didn’t pull back from the kiss, and the projection was moaning softly. Eames guessed that for all the strangeness of the situation, Arthur was truly enjoying this. Eames sorely wanted to back off and watch, but didn’t think Arthur would be quite up to handling it on his own just yet.

When Eames went to palm the projection’s erection through his trousers, though, he bumped into Arthur’s hand. Perhaps it wouldn’t take as long as he thought.

“You should take off his shirt,” Eames suggested in a whisper, then ran his tongue up the curve of Arthur’s ear and took Arthur’s lobe between his teeth, pulling lightly. “And yours while you’re at it.”

Arthur shot Eames a brief, unreadable look, then looked back at his projection, frowning critically and tracing his jaw before kissing him again. It was Eames’s first proper look and he could almost feel his blood flooding south at the sight. Arthur’s tongue, always soft, yielding and wet, looked especially luscious pulsing against its twin, those identical lips nipping and sucking at each other. Eames wanted to touch all of it, everywhere, both of them. Instead he shifted back to give them a bit of space, but carried on stroking up both of their sides, marvelling at the feeling of of those familiar ribs in duplicate.

Eames was about to remind Arthur of the instruction when Arthur started to comply of his own volition, tugging at his projection’s shirt and lifting it up over his head and doing the same for himself. He returned to the kiss, and appeared to have shed all reticence.

“His nipples,” Eames said softly. “Bite them.”

Arthur broke for a second, laughing and shaking his head as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing, but reined it in and bit down on the projection’s lip, prompting the projection to growl a little and smile back. Arthur moved down, nipping at the projection’s chin and brushing his lips against the projection’s collarbone before reaching one of his nipples. He enclosed it in his mouth, suckling on it with soft, wet sounds. From the side, Eames could see Arthur’s tongue come out to flick at the hard little bud, and Eames unconsciously reached up to rub at his own nipple through his shirt.

“Bite, I said,” Eames prompted, lazily drifting his fingers of his other hand over his clothed erection. He would’ve given just about anything to join in, but Arthur had been clear on that point: watching and giving instructions only.

Arthur worried his teeth at the small, pert bump, causing his projection to hold his breath, wincing slightly. But judging from the way he ground up into Arthur’s hip, it wasn’t exactly unwelcome. Eames grinned, slow and wicked.

“The other one now,” Eames said as he eased himself back to the headboard, putting pillows behind himself to settle in for the show. While he moved, he missed Arthur obeying, but when he looked up again, Arthur was biting and licking at the projection’s other nipple and lightly scratching at the first. It was a curious gesture, that scratch — one Eames had never considered. But if the point was to give Arthur pleasure, and that was what Arthur chose to do to his own subconscious, Eames made a note to try it on Arthur himself at a future date.

“Look at him. He’s hard already,” Eames pointed out.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Arthur’s projection answered, then glanced over, quirking up an eyebrow at Eames’s obvious bulge. The projection was never still, tracing his hands over Arthur’s hips, his ribs, his arms, stroking his nape. It was fascinating seeing how much Arthur obviously wanted to be touched. The lesson was not lost on Eames.

Arthur looked down at the projection’s swell, tracing the hardness through the projection’s trousers. Arthur nodded, mouth hanging open slightly as he stroked slowly.

“What now?” Arthur asked, voice rough and cracking. He cleared his throat and repeated it. “What should I do now?”

“Get him out. He looks terribly confined,” Eames said, unable to keep the smile from his voice.

Arthur took a glance up at his own face looking back at him and took a breath that could have been steeling himself, or possibly just remembering to breathe. Whichever it was, he unconsciously pressed his hand onto his own bulge before undoing the projection’s trousers. Although Eames hadn’t specified, Arthur moved down to mouth at the cock in front of him through the white cotton of the projection’s briefs, nosing up the length and flicking a tongue out, fluttery and tentative.

When Arthur lifted the elastic over the head and placed a sucking little kiss at the slit, Eames groaned and undid his own trousers to better access himself. “Good, yes,” he said. “Shift ‘round. I want to see you suck each other.”

With an interested hum and a small nod, Arthur did as he was asked. The two of them moved to lie crosswise on the bed and eased themselves out of the last of their clothes. Divested as they were, it became harder to tell them apart, though Eames noticed that the real Arthur’s hair was shorter; the straining in Eames’s trousers prevented him from pondering further what that meant. The real Arthur was first to lift the other’s cock to his lips, hand wrapped around and positioning it to better slide fully into his mouth. He gasped when his own cock was taken in, and their moans mingled.

Eames had always loved sixty-nine in his porn; something about the completeness of it, its ouroboros nature appealed to his sense of form. The image of Arthur in an endless loop of self-pleasure was symmetry itself, and an image that Eames wouldn’t soon forget. He tugged at himself steadily, careful not to get too worked up too quickly.

As both of them pleasured each other as though they had a direct line to their own response, Eames wondered if that was actually the case. He watched as they slowly lost their air of self-awareness, as they started to pulse and push into each other’s mouths.

“Put your finger in him,” Eames husked and waited for Arthur to look up before lightly tossing him a small bottle of lube. “No, you keep sucking,” Eames addressed the projection when he looked up from what he was doing.

The projection smirked and guided Arthur’s cock back into his lips while Arthur wetted his finger and started petting the projection’s hole. Arthur licked up the underside of the projection’s cock, sucking on the tightened skin of his sac and dipping his finger in. From the way the projection flexed his legs further open, Eames guessed it was a little overdue. “Two, come on. You know he can take more.”

Arthur was better than his instruction, wrapping his arms around the projection’s thighs and pressing in first with both forefingers, then squeezing his middle finger in, seesawing his hands in and out. Eames’s throat let out an involuntary little moan and he gripped the base of his shaft to stifle his rising need.

With a wet sucking kiss to the vein on the underside of the projection’s cock, Arthur pressed his fingers further in then backed off to say, “Mm, that’s good. Can see why you spend so long down there.”

Eames huffed a little laugh. “How are you doing there, going to come soon?”

“Not yet, but you should probably have him stop blowing me,” Arthur said, a little breathless.

It wasn’t as if Eames didn’t already know what he wanted to see, that he hadn’t pictured several different scenarios in his head between the time they discussed this encounter and the time they enacted it. So he had already decided, but ran through a few different pictures one last time before saying, “Get him on his knees.”

When the projection let go of Arthur’s cock, it fell with a little wet slap against Arthur’s thigh and the projection said, “About time. You two sure dance around instead of getting on with things.”

Arthur’s eyes went wide in surprise at first, then his eyebrows furrowed in chagrin as he realized his subconscious was revealing more than Arthur ever meant to. Eames was delighted and shot Arthur a cheeky little smile. “Well, snap to it, then, come on.” He adjusted his position and eased his trousers down to fully free his erection and pressed up into his fist as he rubbed lazily with a slight twist.

Arthur wasted no time positioning himself, dribbling more lube onto the projection’s hole before attempting to press in. He grunted and frowned as he slipped past once, then gripped his lower lip in his teeth as he pushed his way in. He let go of his cock once he was far enough inside and raised one leg to rest on his foot to get more leverage. He gripped his projection’s hips and looked down at where his cock was disappearing up inside and a laugh punched out of him. “Holy fuck, that’s a trip.”

“Mm, move,” said the projection, pushing back on his elbows and impatiently driving himself further onto Arthur’s cock.

Arthur did, rolling in with one emphatic shove and smacking his projection on the hip, then starting a hard, steady pace that had the projection’s flesh jiggling slightly with each thrust.

Eames tilted his head this way and that, taking it all in. “Spread him open, watch yourself fucking him,” he said, and he didn’t even pretend to be calm, his voice gruff and needy, his hand working insistently at his own erection.

Arthur complied, gripping the projection’s cheeks and spreading him harshly. The projection splayed himself out, dropping his chest to the bed and sneaking his hand underneath to tug at himself. Arthur fucked in frenetically, then in a fit of irritation, pulled out and yanked the projection by his hips to the edge of the bed so Arthur could stand on the floor and lean his weight into the thrusts.

“Hit him again,” Eames encouraged.

The smack was less than satisfying to Arthur, apparently, because he did it again, landing right the second time with a crack. He tangled his fingers in his projection’s hair and pulled back, forcing the projection to push up onto his hands properly and arch his neck, mouth falling open in bliss.

“Oh god,” the projection said. “Oh fuck,” and he jerked himself furiously.

Arthur smacked him again with the other hand, keeping the one in the projection’s hair firmly in place. “Stop that. Don’t — don’t come yet.”

The projection scowled but obeyed, putting his hand back beside his head to grip the duvet.

“Eames,” Arthur said, slowing down but driving in all the harder for it. “What should I do?”

“Pull out. Come on his arse,” Eames said, using his second hand to smear his precome around the head of his cock while he tugged.

Arthur nodded, just a single small jerk of his head as he flickered his gaze between where he was entering and the back of the projection’s head as though he couldn’t quite believe who it was. After several minutes, he let go of the projection’s hair and grabbed the projection’s hand instead to guide it back, urging him to touch himself once more. The two of them were a frenzy of tugging need, artlessly shoving into each other when Arthur’s body jerked once and he pulled out, aiming his sticky, shiny red cock at the projection’s flushed hole. His come came in hard spurts, some of it painting streaks up the smooth flesh of the projection’s arse, but most of it dripping down into and over the pucker of flesh. At the same time, the projection arched his back up, pressing his forehead to the duvet and spilling with a little bark of a cough.

When Arthur rubbed his dick through the mess and popped the head back inside, that was all it took for Eames groan and come all over his own chest, legs flexing rhythmically. When Eames finally settled, lifting his hand and stretching his fingers to watch the strings spread across the span, he said, “Fuckin’ hell, Arthur.”

Arthur laughed and patted his projection on the hip to urge him to make room for Arthur to lay on his side crossways over the bed and work his fingers up under Eames’s pant leg to stroke his ankle. The projection nuzzled up to Arthur’s back, and Arthur ducked his head for a moment, embarrassed perhaps, at his blatant underlying desire for affection.

“Yeah. That was... weird. But good,” Arthur said, sliding his hand further up and ruffling through the hairs on Eames’s legs. “So...”

Eames looked at Arthur for a minute, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, Eames prompted, “Yes?”

“I can probably get the PASIV again in a few weeks.”

Eames ran his toe over Arthur’s ribs and tilted his head once in invitation. “Up here, both of you,” because Eames prided himself on being a quick learner.

Arthur pursed his lips, probably at not having his comment acknowledged, but moved up beside Eames while the projection took up the other side. Eames wrapped his arms around both, kissing Arthur on the temple while trailing his fingers across the projection’s collarbone. Eames let his head fall back against the headboard. A world of possibilities was open to him, and he didn’t want to rush his choice.

“I’m sure we can come up with something interesting to do by then,” Eames said as Arthur dropped his head to Eames’s shoulder.

**End**