Chapter Text
It starts with a box. After all the other gifts have been opened, examined, and put away. Arthur’s new messenger bag on the table in the hall, his new Prada shoes stored carefully in the closet. Eames’ supple leather gloves resting, full of promise in the top drawer of their toy chest.
“But we opened all our gifts,” Arthur says, a little crease between his brows.
“That’s not a Christmas gift.” Eames strokes a finger down his spine. Arthur is stretched across Eames’ lap, his head resting on the arm on the couch.
“But it’s Christmas, and it’s under the tree.” Arthur argues, arching when Eames scratches his way back up and under his loose t-shirt.
“Maybe you should just open it.”
Arthur turns his head back to the tree. “It’s for me?”
Eames smiles. “Everything is for you, pet.”
Arthur slides to the floor, crawling over to the tree, and Eames didn’t ask him to, but he enjoys the sight all the same. Arthur’s supple arse flexing under his black boxer briefs, making Eames’ mouth water. He keeps the flat at a comfortable twenty-three degrees so he can indulge in the need for a naked Arthur whenever he pleases.
Arthur comes back to Eames, kneeling at his feet with the box in his lap, staring up at him with anticipation. Eames runs his hand through Arthur’s close cropped hair.
“Go on, then.”
Arthur removes the lid of the box, frowning up at Eames once he’s seen what’s inside.
“One Master Marking?” he asks, tracing the words on the small card.
“Mmm,” Eames lets his fingers wander down Arthur’s neck. “It’s the Twelve Days of Eamesmas, darling.”
Arthur’s frown deepens. “The what? Is this why you made me take two weeks off work? I thought you were going to surprise me with a vacation.”
“This is better than a vacation.” Eames’ fingers dig into Arthur’s neck and Eames smiles as Arthur goes limp. “This is a challenge.”
Arthur exhales a shaky breath, leaning against Eames’ legs.
“Twelve days. You and me, pushing past all your limits,” Eames whispers, petting at Arthur’s shoulders. “But only if you’re up for it.”
Arthur stiffens, glaring up at him. “I can do it.”
“I know you can. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t think you could. It’s not going to be easy though, darling. It’s going to hurt and you’re going to be exhausted, but I just know that by the end you’ll be singing from all the attention I’m going to give you.”
Arthur shivers, rubbing his cheek on Eames’ knee.
“Daddy will be so proud of you when you come out the other side in one piece.”
“Yes,” Arthur says quietly, nudging his head up Eames’ thigh. “Anything for you.”
Eames grips his chin, forcing Arthur’s head up. “Not just for me, love. This is for us. You have to trust me to take care of you, and Daddy needs to prove he can see his boy through. Do you understand?”
Arthur nods and Eames digs his fingers in, shaking Arthur’s head sharply.
“Yes, Daddy,” Arthur gasps.
“Good. We begin now. Go undress and climb on the bed.”
Arthur scurries to obey, pushing his underwear down as he goes and smirking over his shoulder at Eames before disappearing into the bedroom. Eames gives him a few minutes to get settled, taking the time to slide fully into the moment. Arthur’s demanding and challenging, and he can be vicious when things don’t go his way, but he’s also the most rewarding partner Eames has ever had. If he can get Arthur out of his head and into subspace he’ll purr like a kitten, and Eames knows he’ll never get tired of the gratitude Arthur shows him for being strong enough to push and shove until Arthur gives in.
They adjusted to each other quickly in the beginning, and Eames had to redraw a few of his own lines to make room for Arthur’s stubbornness, but he’s never regretted it. Since day one, Arthur has challenged him in ways he didn’t think a sub could, and it’s been one hell of a ride. He knows Arthur is committed, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him that worries Arthur will grow tired of him and move on. Eames has a wealth of experience, but a day could come where Arthur decides to see what else is out there. That’s one of the reason’s Eames has devised these challenges; to reinforce his mark on Arthur and show him he can still handle his needs.
By the time Eames goes into the bedroom, Arthur’s clothes are on the floor and he’s laying on his stomach on the bed, watching Eames closely from where his head is resting on his folded arms.
Eames tsks and picks up the clothes, folding them carefully and setting them on the dresser. He knows the move was meant to irritate him into showing his hand, but he doesn’t take the bait. It’s Arthur’s go-to move when he’s nervous or unsure of where they’re heading.
Eames stands at the end of the bed and wraps his fingers around Arthur’s ankles. Arthur stiffens, pressing his forehead to the mattress, his breath quickening. Eames knows he expects to be secured to the bedframe, but part of this is about testing Arthur’s obedience and for that Eames has to give up a little control.
He digs his fingers in and leans down to skim his teeth over Arthur’s achilles heel. “Stay still for Daddy, kitten.”
Arthur takes a deep breath and relaxes into the mattress, his limbs going slack. Eames releases his ankle and reapplies his teeth, biting down until he feels the tendon jump under his tongue. Arthur’s toes curl, but he doesn’t make a sound. When Eames is satisfied there will be a mark, he lets go, examining the reddened skin.
WIthout speaking, Eames trails his lips up Arthur’s calf, pausing to suck on the hollow behind his knee. Arthur squirms for a second, then reigns himself in, his breath hitching as he’s tickled. Eames moves quickly to the inside of his thigh, about halfway up, and bites down hard. Arthur makes a strangled noise, but his beautiful boy fights to stay still, allowing himself only the smallest of jolts.
Eames increases the pressure, sucking the soft skin into his mouth as his teeth clamp down and all Arthur does is spread his thighs a little wider, giving Eames more room to work. He crawls into the space Arthur’s made for him, letting go and quickly claiming another mouthful of flesh an inch away.
He swipes his tongue over the marks, feeling the indents his teeth have made and Arthur grunts.
“Gorgeous,” Eames tells him, pressing harder. “Daddy’s going to cover you with teeth marks so no one will question who you belong to. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Arthur doesn’t answer, he knows by now what requires a response and what doesn’t. Eames hauls him up by the hips and sink his teeth into the luscious curve of Arthur’s left ass cheek. He bites his way to the cleft, digging his fingers in hard to open Arthur up so he can bite the underside, right where his ass meets his sack. He wiggles his jaw until Arthur’s gasping and he can feel his teeth touching through the delicate skin. The bite turns into a suck and he pulls back, letting go with a filthy pop.
He leaves deep, patterned teeth marks all over Arthur’s ass and he’s never been so proud of his misaligned bite. There’s no way Arthur can question who has scored him with Eames’ signature indented in his skin.
Eames leaves purpling indents along Arthur’s right shoulder blade, moving on to his trapezius to suckle and bite down hard enough that Arthur whimpers. The tiny nips all around the back of his neck are red and puffy by the time Eames rolls him over to complete the chain. When Eames draws back to examine the collar he’s left, a sharp, hot stab of want goes through him and he attacks Arthur’s lips, biting and licking until Arthur’s a gasping, panting mess and his lips are nearly raw from the friction.
He sets his teeth into the curve where Arthur’s pectoral becomes his underarm, shaking his head a little to darken the bruise that will bloom. By the time he reaches Arthur’s nipples, Arthur’s so deep into subspace he hardly reacts when Eames scrapes his blunt front teeth over first one, then the other, drawing them into peaks and continuing until they’re puffy and Arthur’s quaking when Eames blows over them.
Arthur’s stomach is flat and firm, but Eames presses his face against it until he can grip a mouthful of flesh and nibbles away, leaving crescent indents all across his abdomen and over his hips. Arthur whimpers when Eames’ mouth draws him in so Eames calms him with a few slow, soft sucks, feeling Arthur harden fully on his tongue. Once he has Arthur pressed to the back of his throat, he pulls back, dragging his teeth lightly over the shaft, letting go when he hits the underside of the head. He does it three more times, then lets Arthur slip free, springing up again the bite mark under his navel. He leaves one last mark on the front of Arthur’s thigh, just deep enough to bruise, then settles at the head of the bed, tugging Arthur into his lap.
“You were so good, love,” Eames whispers in his ear. “Did you like that?”
Arthur’s head falls back to Eames’ shoulder. “Hurts.”
“I know, I know, but you’ll be all sorts of pretty colours in the morning, won’t you? Daddy knows how much you like that.”
Arthur grumbles and squirms in his lap until Eames takes pity on him and wraps one arm around his waist, fingers digging into the bite on his hip, and one around his leaking cock. He strokes firm and steady, just like Arthur likes it best. Eames’ mouth closes over the tendon in Arthur’s neck, teeth clamping down hard. Arthur jolts, pulling against the hold, but Eames hold him in place, jerking Arthur faster.
Arthur fights back, just like Eames knew he would, and he has to bite down harder to keep him from breaking away. Arthur’s whining and bucking, and when Eames presses harder against his hip, adding suction to his hold on Arthur’s neck, Arthur convulses, come spurting onto his stomach and over Eames’ fingers. Eames strokes him through it, not releasing his hold until Arthur’s finished coming and is lying still and limp in his arms. He feels a bit like a dog with a rabbit caught in it’s jaws, just having shaken the animal hard enough to break its neck. The sense of his own power, and Arthur’s vulnerability floods through him and he carefully widens his jaw, releasing him.
The mark he’s left is delicious, already a deep purple, no doubt moving into black by morning. There a small tear where he’s broken through the skin, but no blood and nothing so bad as to leave a scar. He grabs the small first aid kit from the bedside table and disinfects the broken skin, covering it with a small bandage. He kisses the wound before rolling Arthur onto his side and curling up behind him. He’s hard and aching, and it would be nothing to slip inside Arthur and take what’s his, but Eames knows what’s coming in the days ahead, and it will be trial for them both so he wraps his arms around Arthur and pulls him in close.
“You were beautiful, pet. Daddy’s so proud.”
A smile curves over Arthur’s swollen mouth as he turns his head for a kiss. Eames gives him two, then settles him down for a nap. His beautiful boy is going to need his rest.