"You manipulative bastard," Eames murmurs, but only half-heartedly. Arthur positions his chair parallel to his desk and Eames bends over his top half until his chin and hands are resting on its wooden edge. "Been thinking about my arse every day since I started here?" Eames asks over his shoulder. "Or is this a spur--"
SLAP.
Eames is cut off by Arthur's palm connecting with his flesh with a meaty crack, and bites his bottom lip to keep from crying out. “Jesus,” he gasps, and Arthur smiles in satisfaction.
"You like that?" Arthur enquires sweetly, and doesn't wait for Eames' reply before bringing his hand down again.
“Ungh,” Eames grunts, the force of the slap shifting his bare cock to slide against Arthur’s pant legs.
SLAP.
"You should see yourself," Arthur breathes in a voice smooth like liqueur, "turning all pink and raw for me."
Eames is beginning to feel very flustered with the delicious friction of Arthur's midnight-blue silk blend trousers against him. With each blow he finds himself grinding into Arthur’s legs, which is soon met with an especially hard reprimand.
“Trying to get yourself off, are you? Don't you fucking dare come all over these pants. They're new-season--" SLAP "--Burberry Prorsum."
"Are you eh-enjoying yourself?" Eames stammers, face flushed and sweaty fingers sliding across the polished hardwood.
"This feels so cathartic, you wouldn't believe," Arthur pants. "Spanking all my frustrations out. I must suggest it to Cobb at next month's stress management workshop." Arthur has exerted himself into quite a state too; warmth rising to his cheeks once again and a few dark stands of hair falling across his forehead. Eames can only manage a snort in response at this stage and wonders with eyes clenched shut just how long Arthur's going to keep torturing his arse and his cock for. Slap-slide. Slap-slide. Slap-slide.
"My hand's feeling pretty numb," Arthur announces a minute later, and Eames notices that the blows are starting to lose their sting. Eames lets out a sigh of relief when Arthur removes his hand for good and motions to stand out of his chair. "Uh-huh, we're not done here," Arthur says when Eames straightens up gingerly.
Now that there's some proper blood flow to that area he can sure feel the full impact of Arthur's palm, and Eames winces when he touches his bruised behind. He's about to open his mouth in protest to a further spanking when he sees Arthur find a condom and bottle of lube in his bottom drawer. "Unless you'd rather do some filing?" Arthur teases with a raised eyebrow when he sees the look of outrage on Eames' face.
His tone softens. "Bend over, for real this time."
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timeasmymeasure
Re: EVERYONE YOU SAY??? (Fill: currently untitled Office Porn 2/3)
Date: 2011-04-27 12:36 pm (UTC)SLAP.
Eames is cut off by Arthur's palm connecting with his flesh with a meaty crack, and bites his bottom lip to keep from crying out. “Jesus,” he gasps, and Arthur smiles in satisfaction.
"You like that?" Arthur enquires sweetly, and doesn't wait for Eames' reply before bringing his hand down again.
“Ungh,” Eames grunts, the force of the slap shifting his bare cock to slide against Arthur’s pant legs.
SLAP.
"You should see yourself," Arthur breathes in a voice smooth like liqueur, "turning all pink and raw for me."
Eames is beginning to feel very flustered with the delicious friction of Arthur's midnight-blue silk blend trousers against him. With each blow he finds himself grinding into Arthur’s legs, which is soon met with an especially hard reprimand.
“Trying to get yourself off, are you? Don't you fucking dare come all over these pants. They're new-season--" SLAP "--Burberry Prorsum."
"Are you eh-enjoying yourself?" Eames stammers, face flushed and sweaty fingers sliding across the polished hardwood.
"This feels so cathartic, you wouldn't believe," Arthur pants. "Spanking all my frustrations out. I must suggest it to Cobb at next month's stress management workshop." Arthur has exerted himself into quite a state too; warmth rising to his cheeks once again and a few dark stands of hair falling across his forehead. Eames can only manage a snort in response at this stage and wonders with eyes clenched shut just how long Arthur's going to keep torturing his arse and his cock for. Slap-slide. Slap-slide. Slap-slide.
"My hand's feeling pretty numb," Arthur announces a minute later, and Eames notices that the blows are starting to lose their sting. Eames lets out a sigh of relief when Arthur removes his hand for good and motions to stand out of his chair. "Uh-huh, we're not done here," Arthur says when Eames straightens up gingerly.
Now that there's some proper blood flow to that area he can sure feel the full impact of Arthur's palm, and Eames winces when he touches his bruised behind. He's about to open his mouth in protest to a further spanking when he sees Arthur find a condom and bottle of lube in his bottom drawer. "Unless you'd rather do some filing?" Arthur teases with a raised eyebrow when he sees the look of outrage on Eames' face.
His tone softens. "Bend over, for real this time."
--