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FIC: Flight Delay (Eames/Arthur, NC-17)

Title: Flight Delay
Rating: NC-17
Total word count: ~2k
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Warnings/content: Flagrant disregard for airport security guidelines! Also, some semi-public sex and dirty talk.
Summary: Eames gets antsy during a layover and finds a way for them to pass the time.
Author's notes: Written for sobota for dream_exchange. I figured I should go ahead and post it, 2 months later! Her prompts of travel, suit porn, and, um, NC-17 jumped out at me the most. Thanks to shes_gone, nova33, gryffindorj, and renne for reading drafts/snippets, making suggestions, and slipping me tranquilizers when I started panicking about deadlines; and to neon_footprint for the Brit pick. ♥

Flight Delay

Eames hated airports. He hated flying in general, but mostly he hated being stuck in one place, waiting. He'd never said as much, but Arthur could always sense his frustration. Even now, waiting for word on their delayed flight out of LAX, his fingers twitched with unspent energy and his eyes flickered with irritation every time the gate agent made a boarding announcement for a different flight.

Arthur watched him flip another page in the magazine, his eyes skimming the pages without drinking anything in. Although Eames was hiding it well, Arthur could see that he was reaching the end of his patience. His suit jacket was draped over his carry-on bag, the sleeves of his pale blue button-down shirt were rolled halfway up to his elbows, and he'd loosened his tie but not removed it. Every once in a while, he reached up and scrubbed a hand over his face, day-old stubble rasping under his fingertips. In the time they'd been sitting there, he'd worked through at least three different newspapers, cover to cover, and had finally moved on to a Skymall catalog that another passenger had left behind.

"Do you want to have a drink before we leave?" Arthur asked, and Eames's eyes flickered up to meet his. "There's a bar at the end of the terminal. I'll wait here with our bags, and I can call you if they announce our flight. At least it would pass the time."

"It's fine," Eames said, looking back down at the catalog again. "I'm perfectly content to wait here. In fact, I'm getting all of my Christmas shopping done early this year. Which do you think for Yusuf - the Einstein Radio Lab Do-It-Yourself Kit or the Telekinetic Obstacle Course?"

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't want to get a drink?"

"Don't worry, I didn't forget you. I've already got something wonderful picked out. You'll love it."

Arthur's reply was interrupted by a microphone crackling to life. "Ladies and gentlemen waiting for Flight 3104 to Brisbane..."

Arthur and Eames looked up expectantly to see the petite gate agent holding the microphone steady with long, manicured fingertips. "We have received information that the maintenance on the aircraft's landing wheel bearings should be completed shortly. We are waiting for final confirmation from the maintenance team before we begin boarding. We appreciate your patience and ask that you please stand by for further information."

Arthur leaned forward in his seat and pocketed his Blackberry as Eames released a nearly inaudible sigh. "That sounds promising," said Arthur.

"Sounds like bollocks," said Eames, turning another page in his magazine. "She gave us the same message an hour ago, just not as cheerfully."

Arthur sighed and looked down at his watch. "Well, I'm going to find a restroom. Watch my bag?" Eames grunted his assent but didn't look up.

There were very few travelers in the airport this late at night, and the restroom was empty. One of the ceiling lights flickered every once in a while, and the whole room smelled of harsh lemony disinfectant. Arthur washed his hands in the sink and inspected himself in the mirror. His eyes were red and dry from the earlier flight from New York, and he had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Cobb had forwarded him the information for the job, and Eames, who was already in the States on other business, had flown into New York to help. The two of them had been working tirelessly for the better part of the week, hashing out plans and tweaking details. Arthur hadn't had a decent night's sleep in... well, a long time.

Arthur splashed some cold water onto his face then snuck another cursory glance at the mirror, tightening his tie and smoothing out the collar of his jacket in one swift movement. He was about to exit the restroom when the door opened and Eames walked in.

"Eames," Arthur said, startled. "What are you doing? Where are our bags?"

"Left them with a nice woman waiting for the same flight," Eames said casually, closing the door and locking it behind him. "She's looking after yours as well, don't worry."

Arthur glared at him, but his stomach was already fluttering. "I don't think you're supposed to do that."

Eames followed his line of sight to the locked door handle. "The bags or the door?"


"It's fine." Eames slid his hands under Arthur's jacket, his fingers brushing over Arthur's ribs and settling on his hips. Eames pressed his face into Arthur's hair, warm breath against Arthur's ear, and breathed deeply.

"Eames," Arthur said warningly, swallowing as Eames worked his way down to Arthur's throat, skimming his lips along his jaw. "What are you doing?"

"Just passing the time," Eames replied smoothly. His fingers found the edge of Arthur's sweater vest and pushed it up over the waistband of his trousers. Arthur could feel Eames's body heat through the layers of cotton and wool, his hands hot against the small of his back. He walked them backward and nudged him against the bathroom wall, then kissed Arthur full on the mouth. Arthur's stomach was in knots at familiar taste of tobacco and scotch, the press of Eames's tongue against the roof of his mouth. He let out a sigh of resignation and let himself be pressed flush against the tile wall.

When Eames's fingers started tugging at Arthur's belt buckle, Arthur pulled away and looked at him.

"Eames," he said breathlessly, and Eames looked up at him, eyes dark in the fluorescent light. "We can't do this here."

"Why not?" Despite his protests, Arthur hadn't pushed Eames away, and Eames was making good use of his quick fingers. He didn't bother removing the belt, just let it fall away and moved on to the fly of Arthur's steel grey trousers.

"Among other reasons, we're on standby. If we miss this flight, we'll be stuck in LA for a week."

"So they'll put Yusuf in a wig," said Eames, punctuating his words with a hard kiss to the mouth. "And they don't really need you. Even Cobb knows how to google."

Arthur started to protest, then groaned when Eames tugged down his briefs and took his cock in one hand. He was already hard, and when Eames swiped a thumb over the slit of his cock, Arthur gave up entirely.

Eames's other hand was fiddling with the button of his own trousers, popping it open with well-practiced ease. When their cocks finally slid together, Eames released a shaky breath that sounded a lot like relief. He wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and started stroking them roughly.

"Fuck," said Arthur. He reached forward and gripped the back of Eames's neck for support, bringing their bodies close enough that he could press his nose to Eames's jaw, breathe in the scent of warmth and sex and rich leather cologne that clung to the collar of his shirt. When Arthur scraped his teeth over the tender skin of his throat, Eames cursed and thrust up against him.

"Should have done this hours ago," Eames breathed directly into Arthur's ear. "I've been thinking about it. Wanted to drag you in here and fuck you so hard that everyone in the terminal could hear us."

"Fuck," Arthur whined. He tried to reach between them to wrap his own hand around Eames's, but Eames twisted his arm back and pressed it against the wall. His hand tightened around Arthur's wrist, and Arthur thought of the last time they'd fucked, back in Arthur's apartment in New York; Arthur on his knees, wrists tied to the headboard with Eames's belt, and Eames fucking him slowly from behind, gripping his hips so hard the bruises still lingered. "Oh god," said Arthur, pushing up to meet Eames's hand. "Fuck, god. Eames--"

Eames let out a deep groan against Arthur's throat, and then he was coming, shooting all over his fingers and Arthur's cock. A flare of desire shot through Arthur's veins, and he thrust his hips forward blindly, desperate to come with him. Eames continued pumping both of them with one hand as he came down from his orgasm, then released his own cock and gripped Arthur's tightly. He pressed a messy, open-mouthed kiss to Arthur's mouth. "You want it? Want me to bend you over the sink right now and fuck you while you watch in the mirror?"

Arthur would have come right then if someone hadn't chosen that moment to try the handle of the door leading into the bathroom. It jiggled once, and then there was a pause and it jiggled again. Another pause and then a firm knock. "Hello?"

Arthur's heart was beating so fast that he thought it was going to burst out of his chest, but Eames didn't seem concerned. He pulled away from Arthur's mouth and slithered down to his knees, taking Arthur's cock in his hand. Arthur swallowed a groan and tangled his fingers in Eames's hair as Eames slowly swirled his tongue over the tip, cleaning his own come from Arthur's cock.

"Is someone in there?" More knocking followed by a frustrated sigh. "Look, I can hear you in there. Just open up."

Arthur looked down at Eames, who was balanced awkwardly on his knees on the hard tile floor. His hair was mussed, his cheeks were flushed, and his trousers were still unbuttoned, with his exposed cock just inches from Arthur's shoe. Arthur felt something come over him then, like the sound of a wave just before it crests. Someone was announcing something over the loudspeaker on the other end of the terminal, but it might as well been on the other side of the world for all Arthur cared. His ears were buzzing, legs were trembling, and every nerve in his body ready to snap. He needed to come. He pushed his fingers through Eames's hair and pulled him closer, too desperate to be careful.

"Jesus Christ," the man muttered on the other side of the door.

Arthur's head hit the tile wall behind him as he threw his head back and came silently, biting his lip and holding his breath as he bucked into Eames's mouth. Eames held Arthur's hips firmly and kept working him with his mouth until Arthur slumped back against the wall, spent. He shivered when Eames sucked once more on his softening cock before releasing him.

"Passengers of flight 3104, your aircraft has been moved to gate C7..."

"Shit, that's us," said Arthur, pushing off from the wall with a fresh surge of adrenaline. He glanced at the door, but it sounded like the person on the other side had given up and left.

"Already?" Eames asked, tucking his shirt back into his trousers and zipping himself up. "Well, I guess you were right. That was quick."

Arthur glared at him but he couldn't muster up the energy to be too irritated. "Come on, let's go before they take off without us."

They recovered their luggage from the woman who was watching it and started following the other passengers to the new gate. Eames grabbed the Skymall catalog and began flipping through it as they walked.

"You're not seriously getting something, are you?" Arthur asked, giving him a sideways glance.

"Of course," said Eames, folding the catalog along its spine. "Now just tell me you don't already have a revolving tie rack or I'll be crushed."
Tags: character: arthur, character: eames, fic, fic: inception, fic: slash, inception, pairing: eames/arthur

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