Work Text:
Arthur is bent over the PASIV components spread across the table. They’d been hooked up and ready to test out the dreamscape when the device started chirping. Eames had been watching him try to determine the reason for the past three hours.
“Sanders, are you positive you didn’t spill your soup?” Arthur barks at their architect.
“I swear to God! I’m not a complete idiot, you know.” Sanders complains, stomping back to his models.
“I beg to differ,” Arthur mutters.
Eames leans closer, thoroughly enjoying how frazzled Arthur has become in his search for answers. There’s sweat on his upper lip, and his shirt has come untucked at the back. For Arthur, it’s practically debauched.
“Darling, wouldn’t there be evidence of his meal if he’d spilled?”
Arthur ignores him and Eames grins. He’s been trying to offer Arthur pointers on how to fix it, but the point man is being very stubborn.
“For fuck’s sake Eames, I can’t just unplug it and plug it back in!” He’d shouted after the first hour. After the second hour Arthur had thrown a screwdriver at his head when Eames suggested blowing into the machine.
He’s just about to offer turning the whole thing upside down and shaking it, when Arthur makes a triumphant noise. Eames rushes over, leaning over his shoulder to see what the discovery is.
“Broken spring inside the injection piston. See, right there.” Arthur holds up the part in question, but Eames’ focus has shifted.
“Had we depressed the trigger, the inconsistent Somnacin levels would have affected the dream, thus...”
Arthur drones on about the consequences of not maintaining proper care of a PASIV and Eames makes vague sounds of interest as he stares at the waistband of the other man’s trousers. Visible in the inch of space showing between that and his shirt, is a strip of black lace.
Eames is transfixed. Never in a million years would he expect to see such a thing. Not on Arthur. Never on Arthur. They’re panties, they have to be. Delicate, black, lace panties. On Arthur. His mouth goes dry and his cock twitches.
Turning in his seat, Arthur stops mid sentence, realizing what Eames is staring at. He pushes away from the table, tucking his shirt back in as he hurries away, face flushed. Eames follows on his heels, cornering him in the kitchen, where Arthur pours coffee into a mug with shaking hands.
“Darling,” he purrs, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of Arthur’s hips.
“Back off, Mr. Eames.”
“I honestly don’t think I can do that, love.” Eames run a finger along the top of Arthur’s belt.
Arthur turns, glaring at him. “I don’t know what you think you’ve discovered, but rest assured that you’re mistaken.”
“I think you’ve got knickers on. Lovely black ones.” Eames leans in.
“No I don’t.” Arthur states, a touch of panic showing in his eyes.
“I think I need to see them, just to confirm.”
“Not fucking likely.” Arthur snaps, looking caged.
“Arthur,” Eames says seriously. “Please?”
Arthur’s scowl slips, insecurity replacing his anger. Eames wraps his fingers around Arthur’s slim wrist, squeezing gently.
“Please?” He whispers. Eames smiles shyly, trailing his palm over Arthur’s hip.
Arthur glances around, then unbuckles his belt, watching Eames closely. He untucks his shirt and tugs his trousers down over one hip, displaying sheer lace and a little pink bow.
Eames gasps, fingers pulling the slacks lower. Arthur pulls away, batting at his hands.
“Not here!” He hisses.
“God, Arthur.” Eames is aware that he sounds wrecked. They’ve flirted and teased, and Eames has thought more than once about how Arthur would look underneath him, but he’s never wanted anyone more than he wants this man in this moment.
Arthur tucks his shirt back in and fastens his belt. “Really, Eames?”
Eames can’t take his eyes off where he knows that little bow is hiding. Beneath the layers of cotton and wool, under all of Arthur’s rigid severity, lies a delicious surprise. His mouth waters when Arthur adjusts himself.
Eames crowds him against the counter, tucking his face into Arthur’s neck. Arthur tenses and pushes him away.
“Jesus, Eames, control yourself.” He’s scowling, but the heat in his eyes is unmistakable.
“Arthur, pet, you have to let me see.” Eames pleads.
“I don’t, actually.” His face is flaming as he peers around the corner, making sure no one is near.
“I’ll do anything.”
Arthur stares at him, eyes narrowed.
“I swear, darling. Please, God, let me see them.” Eames reaches for him again.
Arthur’s gaze sharpens as he slaps away Eames’ hands. He strokes his fingers down bulge in his trousers, making Eames groan.
“Anything?” Arthur raises his eyebrow.
Eames bites his lip and nods, clenching his hands.
“I’ll think about it.” Arthur pushes past him, returning to the PASIV.
Eames takes a deep breath to calm himself. He sets Arthur’s forgotten coffee a safe distance from the PASIV and sits back at his desk, trying to focus on the information in front of him. When he looks up, the other man is methodically rebuilding the machine, a small smile on his face.
to Arrrthur from Eames 1:57am
Answer something for me darling
to Eames from Arthur 1:59am
Go to sleep, Mr. Eames.
to Arrrthur from Eames 2:00am
im trying but i just need to know one thing
to Eames from Arthur 2:05am
What?
to Arrrthur from Eames 2:06am
do you wear them everyday?
do specific days have specific colours?
do you wear them to bed?
to Eames from Arthur 2:10am
That’s more than one thing.
to Arrrthur from Eames 2:10am
please darling
its all i can think about
to Eames from Arthur 2:11am
I highly doubt that.
to Arrrthur from Eames 2:12am
arthur im thinking about it very hard
i told you id do anything and i meant it
plwase just give me a hint
to Eames from Arthur 2:15am
If I answer your questions will you go to bed and leave me alone?
to Arrrthur from Eames 2:16am
yes promise
to Eames from Arthus 2:18am
Most.
No.
Sometimes.
to Arrrthur from Eames 2:20am
are you wearing them now?
to Eames from Arthur 2:25am
>Sent Media
to Arrrthur from Eames 2:28am
jkj;asdj;lfsadfjkl
fucking hell arthur
to Eames from Arthur 2:30am
Sweet dreams, Mr. Eames