[ As Eames combs finger through his hair, he relaxes in increments. It's been a while since he's just indulged in this, touching without the promise of taking his clothes off.
He's so chilled out by the time he gets that question, he's not even considering rejecting it out of hand. The words are there though. Because he's busy, he's got a million things to do and—
Whatever. Fuck it for now. ]
Yeah, okay. If I wake up late, I'm making you do the edits to the mazes.
[Grinning in victory, he attempts to pry Arthur from his shoulder-] There are a lot of legitimate reasons to wake up late. I might argue the terms of this deal tomorrow. [-to press his lips to Arthur's.] But deal.
[It's so... weird to be at this point with Arthur. To be able to be affectionate without making himself vulnerable. Or maybe he still is. Maybe he just knows Arthur won't hurt him because of it.]
[ Lucky for Eames, he's managed to pull himself away from the comforting warmth of his shoulder. Mostly so he can raise a very questioning brow at the idea of "legitimate reasons to sleep in".
Granted, his skepticism doesn't last too long, since he's smiling a bit into the quick kiss. ]
Should I be worried if you argue? Will your fans hear it and come fawning?
[ The last time Eames argued with all of his fervor, he ended up with something like a spider attaché. It was, quite frankly, amusing. ]
[He chuckles, just hovering near his mouth.] God, I hope not. Although they seem to be advertising John's odd little pipes fairly well.
[He gives him another quick kiss before disappearing into the crook of Arthur's shoulder, kissing the skin there softly and mouthing his way up his neck.]
On second thought, if I manage to get you to sleep in, I'll take the bloody punishment.
[ They've been close before. Obviously, because Arthur's been stripped down under Eames' hands, nothing between them but sweat and skin.
And somehow, these sweet close-mouthed kisses are more intimate. Personal. Arthur feels even more exposed, defenses crumbling to the ground. He leans into it, lets Eames kiss a line along his throat, hums a bit at just the warmth.
It seems to spread, blooming to fill his lungs, his rib cage expanding with it. Happiness, threatening to bubble over like a bottle of champagne shaken and uncorked. He's smiling, dimples clearly showing, eyes crinkling right at the corners. Somewhere, he feels like maybe this is stupid, that he's stupid, for letting this affect him so much.
But right now, he's finding it hard to care. Gently, he brings his hands to either side of Eames' face, silently getting him to make eye contact. ]
I think if I'm exhausted, that's possible. [ His smile goes from beaming to a curve of a smirk, implicating. ] Think you can do that, Mr. Eames?
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He's so chilled out by the time he gets that question, he's not even considering rejecting it out of hand. The words are there though. Because he's busy, he's got a million things to do and—
Whatever. Fuck it for now. ]
Yeah, okay. If I wake up late, I'm making you do the edits to the mazes.
no subject
[It's so... weird to be at this point with Arthur. To be able to be affectionate without making himself vulnerable. Or maybe he still is. Maybe he just knows Arthur won't hurt him because of it.]
no subject
Granted, his skepticism doesn't last too long, since he's smiling a bit into the quick kiss. ]
Should I be worried if you argue? Will your fans hear it and come fawning?
[ The last time Eames argued with all of his fervor, he ended up with something like a spider attaché. It was, quite frankly, amusing. ]
no subject
[He gives him another quick kiss before disappearing into the crook of Arthur's shoulder, kissing the skin there softly and mouthing his way up his neck.]
On second thought, if I manage to get you to sleep in, I'll take the bloody punishment.
no subject
And somehow, these sweet close-mouthed kisses are more intimate. Personal. Arthur feels even more exposed, defenses crumbling to the ground. He leans into it, lets Eames kiss a line along his throat, hums a bit at just the warmth.
It seems to spread, blooming to fill his lungs, his rib cage expanding with it. Happiness, threatening to bubble over like a bottle of champagne shaken and uncorked. He's smiling, dimples clearly showing, eyes crinkling right at the corners. Somewhere, he feels like maybe this is stupid, that he's stupid, for letting this affect him so much.
But right now, he's finding it hard to care. Gently, he brings his hands to either side of Eames' face, silently getting him to make eye contact. ]
I think if I'm exhausted, that's possible. [ His smile goes from beaming to a curve of a smirk, implicating. ] Think you can do that, Mr. Eames?
no subject
That won't be a problem, [he says confidently, and he kisses him like he wants to, like he's always wanted to. Softly and lovingly.]