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(Un-beta’d and unfinished, but this has been a long enough time in coming, and I told iatrogenicorigin I’d have it up, so this if for you Baby, your art and your support has been an inspiration for me~)

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It took Robert four months to reach the end of the world, and he ended up right where he had started: the ocean.

 Always the ocean, stretching on further than his gaze could reach, infinite and empty and unobtainable.  He stood on the shore, letting the water reach and then recede from his bare ankles.  He wished he didn’t have to face it alone, but it had been a long time since projections could fool him, and his subconscious had mostly abandoned the effort.

The clock was blinking 3:43 AM when he called Eames.  He had no idea what time it was where Eames answered.  “Hey.”

“Good…night?” said Eames.  “Is everything all right?  It must be the middle of the night there.”

“It is.  And I’m fine.”  Robert settled deeper into his pillows.  I just wanted to know how you’re doing.” 

Eames chuckled, and the sound made Robert realize just how much he’d missed it.  “I told you I’d come back,” he said.  “You don’t have to check in on me.”

“I’m not,” Robert insisted.  “So when are you coming back?”

“That eager, hm?  Is the institute not keeping you busy enough?”

Robert grumbled with the reminder; his business was slated to open its doors in just under two months, and he still felt woefully unprepared.  But that wasn’t what worried him.  “I can’t sleep,” he said, and the immediate silence from the other end was the reason he hadn’t called sooner.  “I’ve run out of Limbo to explore.”

It took Eames several long moments to answer.  “I’ll text you the flight information once I have it,” he said.

***

Robert picked Eames up at the airport in his limousine.  As soon as the luggage was stowed and they were on their way Robert pushed Eames into his seat and climbed into his lap.  Eames grunted and reached immediately for the controls to the limo’s privacy screen.  “This took about as long as I expected,” he teased.

Robert shut him up with a kiss.  He tried to hold back, to be confident and slow and not at all desperate, but Eames must have seen right through him.  The hesitation in Eames’ arms as they circled his back reminded Robert that this same possessive ferocity was probably what had sent Eames across the globe in the first place.  He couldn’t help himself.  For Eames it had been a mere eighteen days, but for Robert it felt like—and in some ways had been—months.

Eames grumbled against Robert’s mouth, but with each deep kiss he relaxed, until he was warm and almost purring.  He eased Robert back.  “I hope you didn’t make that up over the phone just to get me back here,” he teased.

“We’ll talk about it later.”  Robert took Eames’ face in both hands and kissed him again.  A heavy conversation awaited them at home, and he was determined to make the trip itself more pleasant.  Don’t worry about all that, he tried to convey through his spine, arching beneath Eames’ hands.  I have you back, for now.  He coaxed Eames’ lips apart so their tongues could meet.  Think twice before you take off again.

Eames squirmed—he got the message, and he stopped holding back.  He kissed Robert back with mounting enthusiasm as if finally realizing how much he wanted it, too.  The soft leather complained beneath them as they shifted more tightly together, hip to hip and chest to chest, urgently embraced.  It wasn’t until Eames’ fingers pressed into Robert’s waist, stealthily prodding, that Robert broke their kiss.

“I’ve been eating,” he said pointedly.

Eames groped down Robert’s thighs and then back up to open his fly.  “I can tell.”  He was a good man when he needed to be, and didn’t waste any time dipping his hand into Robert’s silky boxers.  “You feel good.”

Robert hissed and pressed into him.  Eames’ wide, calloused palm enveloping him was everything he’d wanted, and it chased away the last, fleeting sensations of restless waves and dreary ocean mist from the corners of his mind.  Every slow stroke over his growing arousal sent his blood coursing and skin tingling, and more importantly, gave gravity to his world that often felt as if it had none.

“Wait.”  Robert braced himself against Eames’ shoulder and sat up on his knees enough that he could reach Eames’ slacks.  “I want you, too.”

Eames made no effort to help; he wrapped his fingers around Robert’s cock and squeezed in slow pulses.  “Your driver had better not be watching,” he whispered.

Robert shivered, and was distracted from his task several times by Eames’ clever attentions.  At last he was shoving Eames’ pants past the rise of his hips, just enough to free him.  “He knows better,” he said, settling once more.  It took some shifting of knees and clothing for them to get it right, but then they were pressed together again, cock against cock, wriggling in the back of the limo like prom dates.

Eames reached for them, only to have Robert slap his hand away.  “Just lean back,” Robert insisted.  He tugged the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his jacket and smoothed it over their straining erections.

“Ahh…”  Eames huffed through a wide grin.  “Silk.”

Robert wrapped his hand around them.  He was not as broad and rough as Eames, but he made up for it as best he could with a subtle but calculated rock of his hips.  When Eames tried to hurry him on with firm hands on his ass, he resisted, gripping Eames’ shoulder with his free hand.  “Just lean back,” he said again.  “Relax.”  His lip curled.  “You’ve had a long flight.”

Eames sighed but did as he was told; he nestled into the leather and was content to caress Robert’s long thighs in encouragement.  Emboldened, Robert stroked them together—slowly but firmly, thumbing their heads when he came to them.  They had plenty of time and he was in no mood for a rush.  Oblivious to the L.A. traffic blaring around them he worked his steady fingers up and down, rolled into him with his body, each sensual motion a war with patience he was determined to win.

Eames went limp beneath him.  With his chin tipped back and his hands peacefully wandering he endured Robert’s agonizing pace and did his best to suppress the anxious tension Robert could already feel at work in his abdomen.  “Robert,” he murmured, his broad chest heaving with every heavy breath.  “God, I’ve missed you.”

Robert rewarded the admission by grinding into him, and smiled when he felt Eames shudder.  “Me, too.”

Eames pawed at the insides of his thighs.  “I’m sorry.”  He started to sit up again.  “I shouldn’t have—”

“Shh, it’s fine.”  Robert kissed his stubbled chin and urged him back again.  “I know.”

Robert sped up—not enough to match the frantic affection burning in the pit of his stomach, but enough to make Eames writhe.  He teased them with the silk until he could taste perspiration on Eames’ upper lip.  Both weary from their travels and over-eager with the reunion, it didn’t take long before they were unraveling against each other, breath panting in the shallow space and suit coats helpless distressed.  Robert came first.  As soon as he was close Eames wrapped him up in his arms and it sent him over the edge; he groaned into Eames’ mouth to try and muffle the sound.  It took only a few more keen jerks to finish Eames off as well, and then they slumped together, light-headed and blissful.

“You can…take all the time you need,” Robert said against Eames’ ear.  “As long as you come back.”

Eames tried to hide his frown, but Robert saw it, as he always did.  He kissed his temple.  “I’m back,” he replied.

(I’ll post more by the end of the week)