Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/452434.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Inception_(2010)
  Relationship:
      Arthur/Eames_(Inception)
  Character:
      Arthur_(Inception), Eames_(Inception)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-05 Words: 1208
****** Faces ******
by merrypornster_(merryprankster)
Summary
     "It wasn’t an easy task, getting Arthur to come all undone like
     this."
Notes
     High School AU is the best AU.
Though Eames didn’t care to admit it, he quite like the many faces of Arthur
that he interacted with over the course of a day. There was the serious Arthur,
the one that frowned at him whenever he made the slightest jab. There was the
rare carefree Arthur, the one whose dimples Eames always noticed in spite of
himself. The frustrated Arthur, the one that snapped at Eames and Eames snapped
back and they got over it the next day. There were a number of others, too, but
Eames had to say this one was by far his favourite.
It wasn’t an easy task, getting Arthur to come all undone like this. Arching
and grunting and eyebrows knitting together in what could be misunderstood as
pain. If anyone did get the chance to see him like this and not be in the
position that Eames was in now, that would quickly be cleared up by the
terribly erotic keening and moaning coming out of his mouth. Not too loud, so
as not to raise suspicion among their dorm neighbours, but loud enough for
Eames to get the message loud and clear.
The reason Arthur was making these sounds and these wonderful faces was because
his pants were around his knees, and Eames was holding himself up above his
midsection, mouth sliding up and down Arthur’s cock. Eames didn’t think himself
very good at giving blow jobs, nor did he really enjoy giving them all that
much, but to a teenage boy with overflowing hormones, a warm, wet mouth was
probably the best feeling in the world no matter how much technique was
involved. It certainly elicited much more of a reaction than a regular old hand
job would. When Arthur was on the receiving end of a hand job, he closed his
eyes in concentration, settled into a steady pant and maybe made a bit of noise
if the pace was right and he was about to come. That was nothing compared to
the writhing legs beneath Eames’ torso, the desperate fingers mussing Eames’
hair, and the sounds. Dear God, the sounds.
Eames didn’t fancy himself very selfless or generous, but hearing Arthur enjoy
himself this much sent pleasure right down his spine and into his very hard
dick.
“Fuck!”
Ah, a word managed to get out. Eames knew just by how much time had gone by
that Arthur was nearly finished, and he knew from experience that Arthur
wouldn’t be able to give much more warning than a tug on his hair. That was
alright - the first time maybe he had been a bit caught off guard and couldn’t
manage to stop coughing the rest of the night, but now he knew what to do as
Arthur tensed and came, letting out a ridiculous sound that Eames would have
given him a hard time for if he was fine exploring his relationship with his
hand for a month or so.
Arthur was pretty good at holding grudges.
In any case, Eames’ was getting up and making it to the bathroom in a few short
strides, so he could spit in the sink and wash out his mouth. Arthur didn’t
mind - not only was he too busy collecting himself, but Arthur had a tendency
to let Eames know just how disgusting it was to have a mouthful of ejaculate
whenever the tables were turned, though that never stopped him from going back
and doing it again when the situation presented itself. They were just kids -
blow jobs felt like a part of growing up, just like the complications in their
relationship that were easily forgotten all the time, shrugged off as just
being part of the messy web of teenage feelings that no one ever really talked
about. All of that was alright, because to Eames and to Arthur, both of whom
really didn’t have much experience at all to speak of, blow jobs were the best
thing ever and could literally fix every problem.
As Eames looked vaguely around for some mouthwash or something, Arthur wandered
into the bathroom, moving lazily. He grabbed a hand towel and unceremoniously
stuck it down his pants for a moment before throwing it in the laundry basket
and walking back out into his dorm room, avoiding eye contact the whole time.
Eames imagined he just didn’t feel up to dealing with the tent in Eames’ pants,
but couldn’t outright say it. Arthur always started acting a little weird when
he knew he was responsible for an erection and wasn’t really mentally prepared
to help get rid of it. When Eames was already horny, Arthur didn’t seem to have
any trouble snorting and telling him to go take care of it himself if he wasn’t
in the mood. But when it was a direct result of something Arthur did, he
started getting squeamish, as if he was uncomfortable with the idea of being
attractive. Eames wanted to tell him one of these days that while he wasn’t an
altogether bad looking person, it was more the making out and sexual acts that
did it for him.
Speaking of being horny...
Eames winced as his hard-on brushed against the counter’s edge, letting Eames
know that it wasn’t quite ready to go away yet. He looked down at it with a
frown, looked up at Arthur who was sprawled out on his bed, and then reached
over to close the door.
“I’m using your bathroom for a minute,” he announced.
He saw Arthur sit up with a look of shock and concern (primarily for the state
of his bathroom, Eames imagined) on his face. “What-- hey!”
It was too late. Eames had closed and locked the door and his hand was already
down his pants as he pressed his back to the wall and slid down to sit on the
floor. From outside he heard Arthur say, “clean up after you’re done,” but
Eames had no intention of leaving a mess behind anyway. That would just be
mean.
Pushing his pants and boxers out of the way, Eames went about making quick work
of his erection. He let his head fall back and his mind drift, cycling through
a routine batch of images, flashes of positions he wanted to try and things he
wanted to see. There was Kate from English class, who had these wonderful
freckles and breasts that looked like they were fighting to get out of her
cardigan. Amanda from study hall, who was bossy as hell and Eames always
wondered if that would translate into the bedroom. There were a couple guys
from the swim team, who he had heard rumours about, and although he’d never
admit it he’d had a few fantasies about putting his tongue on all that lean
muscle and breathing in the chlorine and aftershave. And in between all these,
the strongest images of all because he’d actually seen them, was Arthur. Mouth
hanging open, eyes squeezed shut, back arching, all for Eames. All because
Eames knew what to do and was doing it in all the right ways.
It really shouldn’t turn him on this much, but it does, and it’s not long
before he’s letting out a strangled moan and coming into his hand.
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