Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/222827.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Inception_(2010)
  Relationship:
      Arthur/Eames_(Inception)
  Character:
      Arthur_(Inception), Eames_(Inception)
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Blow_Jobs, Sex_Education, Rimming
  Series:
      Part 1 of Educating_the_Young
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-01-31 Words: 2948
****** Educating the Young ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Underage!Arthur (age 17) and OlderNeighbour!Eames become friends,
     then something that polite company would raise an eyebrow at, and
     then something that should absolutely not be mentioned to anyone
     else, ever. Eames talks the boy through his first blowjob, and then
     embarrasses the boy by rimming him, though results suggest he likes
     it.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Eames had seen Arthur around the apartment building; he lived two floors above
the boy and his mother, and there didn’t seem to be a father in the picture. He
was a little gangly, a lot sullen, and with a face that looked impossibly young
despite a darkness in his eyes that spoke of a sharp awareness beyond his
years. His leanness was beginning to show a hint of muscle that was likely to
develop into grace with time and he walked with the confident bravado that can
only come from being 17 and knowing everything.
Inviting the kid in for a cup of tea when he found him locked outside the
apartment building waiting for his mom to get home was just neighbourly
kindness. The chat over tea, once he could actually get the boy talking beyond
single-word answers, revealed a fierce intelligence and a love of books that
maybe shouldn’t be surprising but it was. Arthur was obviously used to being
underestimated, if his impatience with Eames’s questions was any indication.
But Eames was just delighted to discover another human being who had even read
John Gardner’s Grendel, much less loved it beyond all sense and reason. He
suspected it was that - his willingness to talk human to human - more than his
actual questions that caused Arthur to relax and open up.
It felt natural to invite Arthur back for the next day so he could have time to
dig up his copy of The Good Fairies of New York to lend him. After that the
invitations weren’t even necessary. The boy just kept showing up at his door,
saying his mom worked afternoon shifts usually anyway, but not really giving a
reason for being there apart from that. Eames isn’t really sure when things
moved on from being perfectly appropriate and into the territory of something
he would probably not feel comfortable explaining to polite company. But seeing
as how it was unlikely to come up in any conversation anyway, Eames opted not
to resolve the issue in his head.
They watched movies or talked and sometimes Arthur went home after a few hours,
but other times he’d stay and Eames would order in food. It didn’t take long
before Arthur began to invade Eames’s space, and Eames would like to say that
he resisted the efforts, but if he was honest he’d have to admit his attempts
were fairly half-hearted. When Arthur smiled at him and laughed brightly, Eames
just basked in the beauty of it. He could remember being this cocksure when he
was that age, though he was more of a troublemaker and less focused than Arthur
appeared to be. And Arthur seemed to have a thirst for learning coupled with a
youthful impatience that comes from too many lesson paces that are always too
slow.
They talked about relationships; Arthur explained why his Friday nights were
always free now. His best friends Yusuf and Ariadne had finally pulled it
together after years of dancing around each other, and now they were
sickeningly in love. His friends Dom and Mal were probably going to get married
someday, although he doesn’t see much of them any more since they graduated
last year and moved out of town to study architecture at University. Arthur
himself had had a few girlfriends, but he admitted to feeling pretty lukewarm
about the lot of them. Eames was beginning to suspect why.
He didn’t encourage it when Arthur would brush against him in the kitchen, or
crowd him into the counter just shy of too-obvious. He couldn’t claim that he
discouraged it, either, though. He noticed that Arthur would make a point of
waiting until Eames sat down first, and deliberately sit too close. It happened
by degrees, until over the course of weeks Eames was comfortably resting his
arm over Arthur’s shoulders on the sofa, then lazily stroking his thumb over
his shoulder. When Arthur’s hand rested on his thigh, alarm bells rang in his
head, but far too quietly, like they were in someone else’s building. Arthur
was well-read, had insightful things to say and enjoyed the same ridiculous
nerdy humour that Eames did, and he was enjoying his company so thoroughly he
just didn’t think about it.
---
He not really sure how he got to this point, though. Eames thinks Arthur has
never looked lovelier, all flushed and pliant, hair a bit disheveled and
arousal making him almost appear sleepy.
“Come on, Eames. I want to do this, but it would go a lot better if you’d coach
me through it, right?”
Eames hesitates. Admittedly, the time to stop this insanity would have been
before the kissing. Or partway through it, maybe before the tongues; probably
before Arthur got his shirt off, which is what mussed his hair so fetchingly;
definitely before finding his hand rubbing the boy’s erection through his
trousers while Arthur’s impossibly long legs straddle him on the sofa. This is
Eames’s brain trying desperately to catch up, but it’s apparently several laps
behind because Arthur is sliding down his body, settling himself between his
legs and is already working his belt open. His brain didn’t have a hope,
really.
Eames reaches his hand down to stroke Arthur’s cheek with his thumb, using his
fingers to tilt his face up and bending forward to kiss him again, unable to
resist his delectable face. His kiss is hungry but not hard, intent on tasting
Arthur’s lips, licking into his mouth and exploring him. Arthur is so pliant
underneath that kiss, allowing the exploration and returning it with his own
less expert licks. It’s wet, so wet and soft, his tongue fluttering and lips
silken and yielding. Eames can’t remember ever having a kiss feel this lush and
slick.
Eames sits back finally; Arthur looks even more rumpled and debauched than
before as he bites his lower lip and scrapes it before letting it go. Eames
doesn’t know if he does it unconsciously, but its effect is seductive as hell,
and whatever objections he had are flambeed into oblivion. So he nods just a
fraction and flicks his eyes to his belt and back to Arthur. Arthur grins and
returns to undoing the belt.
Arthur unzips him, the noise loud with only their breathing to compete with it,
and Eames lifts his hips to pull his trousers and boxer briefs down below his
knees and off one foot, and rucking his t-shirt up out of the way. Arthur wraps
his hand around the base of Eames’s cock, just looking at it, apparently
mesmerized to see one uncut. Eames lets his knees drop wider and returns to
stroking Arthur’s cheekbone with his thumb. It’s clear Arthur is eager, but
it’s equally clear that he isn’t going to improvise here. He’s waiting.
“Why don’t you just start by kissing it?” Eames says. Arthur must have seen
blowjobs before in porn, has probably even received a few from the handful of
girlfriends he’s had. But Eames isn’t going to rush this and despite the fact
that he feels like he’s about to crest the first big hill of an old fashioned
roller coaster, he’s determined to take this step by step until he just can’t
any more.
“Can I see you... um. Can I see you touch it first?” Arthur says, more curious
than hesitant. Eames understands; he wants to see the foreskin, see how it
moves. So he takes his hand from Arthur’s face and places it over Arthur’s own
hand, and instead of jacking himself, he helps Arthur do it. He adjusts
Arthur’s fingers to grip him gently, moving the skin up and down, pulling his
foreskin back just halfway before letting it slip back over the head.
“Like this, love. Just a little at first; you have to work up to pulling it all
the way back when I’m this hard,” he’s saying, his voice a low rumble. He keeps
a lazy pace, watching Arthur’s face as he stares, fascinated. When Arthur licks
his lower lip, Eames tracks the movement and decides to push things forward. He
removes his own hand and lets Arthur continue on his own.
“Put your mouth on it. Just the head,” and his voice is steady only through
herculean effort. His heart is hammering in his chest.
Arthur leans forward, still moving his hand at the pace that Eames had set, and
parts his lips. His tongue comes out tentatively, but he doesn’t begin by
licking, just touches it to the tip of Eames’s cock incidentally on his way to
wrapping his mouth around it. Arthur is suckling gently and still moving his
hand, his tongue moving around the head a little, exploring the taste and
texture. Eames focus swims for a second as he almost goes cross-eyed.
“A little more, Arthur. Take it a bit deeper. That’s it, just like that.” He
puts a hand to the side of Arthur’s head, threading his fingers through his
tousled curls, and tilts his head the other way to see the view from the side.
“A little more, and pull back. That’s right, let it get wet. Christ do you see
what you do to me? Look, love.” And Arthur does, pulls back enough to see his
own saliva glistening and Eames’s erection redder than when they started.
“Again, Arthur. Take it deeper this time.”
This time Arthur moves his hand right back down to the base, scratching his
fingers through Eames’s slightly sweat-damp hair while sinking his mouth as far
as he can, until it hits the back of his mouth. He frowns.
“Just take what you can. Move on and off, you’re so good, Arthur. Fuckyou’re so
beautiful like this. Use your hand for whatever you can’t take. Yeah, god,
yeah. Like that. Suck the head again, like you did before. Mm.” Eames licks his
own lips as Arthur begins to move on his own without instruction, wrapping his
hand around his girth when he’s not taking Eames deep and then back out again,
sucking and licking. Eames thinks Arthur sucks cock like he kisses, impossibly
wet and yielding. He’s trying not to thrust up into that gorgeous mouth, but
manages only in limiting himself to small pulses of his hips.
Eames is ruffling through Arthur’s hair tighter now and he knows he’s close. He
shouldn’t be, he’s not a teenager any more, but this is Arthur and he’s just so
fucking earnestabout this, so focused and his mouth is so soft and hot.
He feels the rumbling tightness beginning and he wants, oh how he wantsto come
on Arthur’s face, mark him like he’s his. But this is Arthur’s first time so he
grips Arthur’s hair even tighter ready to pull him off and grits out, “You’re
gonna make me come, fuck, Arthur, gonna..” and Arthur pulls off, still stroking
and staring at that foreskin slipping back and forth, rubs his thumb over the
tip and Eames is coming in long arcing spurts over his own stomach and Arthur’s
fingers.
Arthur lifts his hand up to his face and fucking lickssome of the come off the
back of his thumb, and Eames’s last bit of breath is forced out of him at the
sight. Arthur looks up at him and smiles.
Eames takes a few breaths to steady himself before standing them both up and
lifting his own t-shirt over his head, using it to wipe Arthur’s hand before
cleaning himself. Then Eames gathers him up and kisses him thoroughly, wraps
his whole body around him and just kind of possesses him with his hands.
“Arthur,” Eames mumbles against his lips. “Arthur, I want to make you feel
good. Will you let me do that for you?”
Arthur pulls back looking amused and very, very turned on and says, “What did
you have in mind?”
“Just trust me, love. You’ll love it. I’m not going to fuck you.”
“You could, though. If you want,” Arthur replies. It makes Eames lose focus
again, but he can’t. He won’t. Arthur is handsy now, running his fingers over
Eames’s chest and stomach, wrapping his fingers around his biceps, then under
his arms to explore his back. But his eyes don’t waver from Eames’s face.
“In here, come on,” Eames places his hand at the small of Arthur’s back and
leads him towards the bedroom. He knows he ought to stop things now, but in for
a penny, in for a pound and although he’s already come, he just can’t get
enough of Arthur. Once there he sits Arthur down and kneels between his legs,
holding his face with both hands and kisses him again. Arthur is so responsive
every time he does, he thinks he could never tire of this, could just kiss him
and kiss him and forget about the rest of the world if Arthur could just keep
kissing back like this. He raises himself up off his knees and pushes Arthur
backwards, propping himself with one arm and running his other hand up and down
Arthur’s side. Before long he’s working at Arthur’s jeans, deftly undoing the
button and zip left-handed, and Arthur moves to help him slip them off.
He kneels back down, Arthur propping himself on his elbows to watch, obviously
expecting the same as he gave. Eames places soft sucking kisses on his inner
thighs, hands on his knees to spread them. Arthur looks beautiful and obscene,
his narrow chest heaving and his cock so stiff, laying slightly askew on his
belly. Eames works his kisses upwards until he’s nosing against Arthur’s
testicles, kissing the tender skin just underneath. Arthur gasps and jumps
away.
“Fuck! Eames, what.”
“Just trust me, darling. Just close your eyes and feel it.” Arthur’s chest is
still rising and falling rapidly as he gives Eames a measuring stare. He can
see as Arthur comes to a decision and lets his eyes slip closed and lays back,
visibly relaxing into the bed. Eames grasps Arthur by the hips to shift him a
little closer to the edge of the bed and pushes his left leg a little further
open.
He returns his lips to Arthur’s delicate perineum and after a kiss or two tries
a lick, just firm enough not to tickle. Arthur’s breath hitches but he stays
put, so Eames deepens his licks and moves downwards, caressing around his pink
puckered hole. It spasms under his tongue but Arthur himself stays gamely
still, and Eames’s chest tightens at the amount of trust the boy has in him. At
that thought he moves a hand up to Arthur’s side, soothing him with broad, warm
strokes as he begins to lick right over his hole, increasing his pressure just
enough to feel the resistance of that ring of muscle. He can hear Arthur’s
breath getting faster and the rest of his body relaxing even further.
Eames pushes both of Arthur’s legs up, and positions his feet on both of his
shoulders. His flexibility is astonishing, but this position has the advantage
that if Arthur wants it to stop, he can simply push with his feet. Arthur
obviously doesn’t want it to stop. Eames begins to lick in earnest, using his
lips to suck on the skin and dipping his tongue deeper into Arthur’s velvety
heat. Arthur is having increased difficulty keeping still although he’s clearly
trying. But now instead of wanting to move away, he appears to want to grind
into it, so Eames lifts off and says,
“It’s okay, love, I can take it. I’ll fuck you with my tongue until you come.”
And it’s likely only because of the strangeness of it that Arthur hasn’t come
yet already, young as he is, but Eames thinks it’s high time Arthur’s cock was
touched after being neglected for so long, so he grasps it and strokes firmly
while wiggling his tongue in as far as he can manage. That’s all it takes and
Arthur is bucking against him, simultaneously trying to jerk up into his hand
and against his tongue, ending up with only uncontrolled spasms. Eames feels
hot liquid pouring over his fingers and the muscles of his hole clenching
around him, and once again he feels dizzy with desire.
He’s hard again, but this is enough. He moves up and shifts Arthur up to rest
on the pillows and nips off to the bathroom, coming back with a warm wet cloth.
He settles in beside him, holding him close while he gently cleans up Arthur’s
skin. Arthur is sweaty and breathing heavily, utterly spent. Eames puts the
cloth on the table and runs his fingers all over Arthur’s torso, gently kissing
his shoulder.
“How was that? Strange?”
“No. Yes,” Arthur replies, clearly trying to kick his brain back into gear.
“That was. Fuck. That was amazing. We have to do this again.”
Eames laughs, a low rumble he feels in his chest. “Oh, Arthur. The things I
want to do to you. You really shouldn’t encourage me. But I really won’t do
anything you don’t want me to.”
“But you’ll fuck me, right? I think I’d like you to fuck me,” Arthur says
casually, so matter of fact as he is about everything.
“Perhaps. But if we do, we’ll do it properly. No rushing, no penetration until
you’re absolutely ready, not even if you beg,” Eames says, then smirks. “And
believe me, if we do this my way, you will be begging for it.” Arthur smiles
and punches him lightly on the arm then rolls in to rest his head on his
shoulder, neither of them in a rush to move just for the moment.
---End---

End Notes
     I want to pay tribute to  for_posting_some_truly_inspirational_images
     and_for_hosting_a_community_in_which_we_can,_in_good_company,
     comfortably_and_cheerfully_find_(fake)_jailbait!JGL_delectably
     debauchable._For_the_record,_the_third_pair_of_imageshereare the
     versions I pictured while writing this. And I totally used this_gif
     to fuel the description of Arthur with his shirt off. Why yes, I’m
     going to hell, anyone want to carpool?
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!