FICLET: If At First

[sibilantly]

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 600
Prompt: tight
Summary: The course of first times never do run smoothly.

Eames frowns at the headboard, vaguely aware that this ought to feel better than it does.

 

It isn't bad, per se. It simply isn't the mindblowing ride to a howling, jism-geysering orgasm that Eames' (predominantly pornographic) research had led him to expect.

 

But, on the plus side: it isn't painful.

 

Eames had been anticipating pain - a whole manner of stinging and burning sensations that he'd have to endure in exchange for dizzying pleasure. Thanks to Arthur's thorough fingering, however, there hasn't been anything close to pain, not even when Arthur replaced his fingers with his cock.

 

And now - as Arthur thrusts in and out behind him - all Eames feels is discomfort, coupled with a distant, almost theoretical sense of arousal. All in all, the whole enterprise feels like taking a very peculiar shit more than anything else.

 

As soon as the thought hits him, Eames is gripped by the urge to bear down, to force Arthur out. He tenses up, clenches down hard Arthur's cock, eliciting an alarmed, almost pained squawk from Arthur.

 

"Eames?" Arthur grits out, after a pause. "Is— are you okay?"

 

"Perfectly," Eames replies, still staring at the headboard. "My apologies, I was—" Well. Probably best to not finish that sentence. He takes a deep breath, visualises his muscles uncoiling as he exhales.

 

It doesn't work. Nor does it work the next few times Eames tries.

 

"Okay," Arthur says finally, in that embarrassingly solicitous tone Eames has heard far too often over the past week or so. "Okay, so, we've got a few options here. We can change position, or take a breather, or we can... y'know. Call it a night, and switch to something else." It's clear from the emphasis he puts on the last two words which option he thinks is best.

 

"Or we can continue," Eames shoots back. "You needn't keep acting like I'm made of glass."

 

"I am not acting like you're—" Arthur sighs, and rubs Eames' hip in comforting circles. "It's just— I feel a certain responsibility, okay? Given that this is your first time and all—"

 

"It is not my first time," Eames says, appalled. "I am not a virgin!"

 

"Uh, actually, you kind of are. When it comes to ass-fucking, anyway." Arthur cups Eames' arse cheeks lovingly. "This is uncharted territory. Totally gorgeous uncharted territory that I am honoured to—"

 

"If you dare say conquer—"

 

"—chart, even though it's currently crushing my dick in a vice-like grip."

 

Eames buries his face in the pillow. "This is ridiculous." A strangled laugh emerges from his throat, despite everything. "I should have lied. I should've said I'd already done this, in every possible configuration, no less."

 

"No, you shouldn't have," Arthur says, with such abrupt ferocity that Eames twists to look at him, surprised. "It wouldn't have been better, believe me—" He stops. Sighs again. "Look, I'm gonna pull out, okay? Having a discussion while balls-deep inside of you is weird as fuck. And distracting."

 

Eames snorts out another laugh. And it's relieving, when Arthur withdraws - that unrelenting, uncomfortable fullness suddenly abating. But even so—

 

"It feels somewhat... anti-climactic." Eames rolls over onto his back, arm draped over his eyes, while Arthur disposes of the condom. "Getting this far, only to give up."

 

"Who said anything about giving up?" The bed dips, and Arthur winds his arms around Eames' waist a moment later. "I mean, we've got plenty of time to try again. I'm not really planning on going anywhere." He presses a kiss to Eames' shoulder. "Are you?"

 

Eames lifts his arm, slants a small smile at Arthur. "Well. I suppose not."