inception - sharing? fuck that.
Feb. 13th, 2014 01:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
augustbirdTitle: Sharing? Fuck That.
Fandom Inception
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,918
Characters/Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Summary: Eames is a little possessive.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
Author's Note: This fic was written forcobweb_diamond who writes so many amazing fics for the Inception fandom. I wanted to show a little love by picking up one of her prompts that didn't make it to the kinkmeme on time. The prompt was collar bars and in excellent taste. 8DDD Sorry if I ran with it way too much lololol.
Ariadne has been staring at his neck ever since he walked into the warehouse that morning.
She’s trying to be very discreet about it and she’s only taking looks when he’s not looking, but Arthur certainly isn’t the best in the business for lack of observation. He does his best to keep his eyes on his laptop but the way that she keeps glancing over every once so often is kind of distracting.
Yusuf is much less discreet about it. He takes one look at Arthur as he passes by Arthur’s table on the way to his makeshift lab and he throws Arthur an enormous grin, “Somebody certainly got lucky last night.”
Arthur blinks once, very slowly. Then he chooses deliberately not to even dignify that with a response.
“Who’s the lucky lady?” Yusuf continues in a voice that suggests he would love to jab Arthur in the ribs with his elbow and wink at him. Arthur isn’t sure if Yusuf’s actually trying to strike up some form of ill-reputed bromance or just goading him on purpose.
“Not you,” Arthur replies dryly, not even taking his eyes off of his laptop screen.
Ariadne wanders over.
“Not you either,” Arthur says preemptively.
“I didn’t say anything,” Ariadne protests.
It’s at this point that Eames slides into the scene. He rests his elbows on Yusuf and Ariadne’s shoulders and smiles brightly at Arthur, “Would you mind terribly if we stood here and gossiped loudly about it?”
Arthur actually looks up at that. His eyes narrow at Eames and his answer is irritatedly clipped, “Yes.”
“Don’t tell me she left, love” Eames says earnestly, hand pressed to his chest, “Did she even give you a phone number? Are you hoping that she’ll call back?”
Ariadne looks at Arthur expectantly.
“I hope you’re not cheating on me,” Eames adds.
“Eames,” Arthur says with infinite patience, “Go away.”
____
Cobb doesn’t seem to notice it. Arthur almost forgets about it in the midst of sketching out plans for their newest mark. Arthur’s staring at the folder and trying to envision how they might lure and isolate the security on a locked floor or even a physical island when Cobb takes advantage of the lull and says, “I hope you’re being safe.”
“What?” Arthur asks as he looks up and notices that Cobb’s line of sight is aligned with the bruise on his neck. He can’t keep the, “Oh Jesus Christ,” from escaping his lips.
“I’m serious,” Cobb says.
“…” Arthur says.
“If you ever feel an itching—“
“This conversation is over,” Arthur says and he walks away.
____
“You know,” Eames says as he casually drapes himself over the back of Arthur’s chair, “You can tell me anything.”
There’s nobody else in the warehouse. Cobb always leaves early to cook dinner for his children, Ariadne has a mixer with her architect friends, and Yusuf said something earlier about attending to business with a smile that was far too sharp to suggest anything legitimate—all of which meant that there was nobody left to distract Eames except for Arthur.
Not that Eames didn’t distract Arthur while the others were there. Far from it.
“So,” Eames says, sliding his hands along the sides of the chair as Arthur steadily types away at his laptop, encryption programs flashing on the screen. Arthur has always been good at focusing—but unfortunately, not always on the right things.
Like Eames.
Eames spins the chair around and smirks at the faintly annoyed expression that passes over Arthur’s face before his eyes drop to Arthur’s neck. He lets his hand drift aimlessly up the sleek leather of the chair for a moment before he actually reaches out to touch the purpling mark on Arthur’s neck. Arthur stills under the light touch and his eyes darken.
Eames is practically purring. “Why don’t you tell me who left you with that.”
Arthur slides a hand around the back of Eames’s neck and pulls him down with a growl. Eames can make out the word against his lips without having to hear it.
“You.”
____
“There’s another one?”
Ariadne is not as quiet as she thinks she is. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur can see her craning her neck to stare at him.
He hooks a finger into the collar of his shirt and tries to pull it up without looking away from his laptop. Ariadne glances away guiltily. Arthur doubts that it did much good—they’ve been left higher and higher up on his neck, practically under his ear. He has no doubt that Eames does it just to make life more difficult for him.
“You seem to be getting serious, my friend,” Yusuf observes as he takes a seat across from Arthur, “Perhaps I can give you some relationship advice?”
Arthur stops working. He’s kind of intrigued by what kind of relationship advice Yusuf might have to offer.
“First,” Yusuf says, “You have to make sure that she’s not just sleeping with you for your stash of drugs.”
“Okay,” Arthur agrees.
“Second,” Yusuf continues, looking encouraged, “If she has four older brothers, it’s probably not a good idea to cheat on her.”
Arthur looks at Yusuf kind of blankly. He tries to remind himself that the man is a genius with chemicals.
“Third,” Yusuf pushes on, “If she sets a safe word but she starts ignoring you when you say it—it’s probably a pretty good sign that she’s really angry with you. Especially when she’s using the—”
“Thank you Yusuf,” Arthur says.
____
“If we had a safe word,” Eames says as he slides into the seat Yusuf has abandoned, “What would it be?”
“Trying to do work,” Arthur answers.
“That’s quite a mouthful,” Eames muses, “I was thinking more along the lines of carrot or candlestick or Cobb.”
Arthur chokes on nothing. He doesn’t actually want to think about Cobb and sex in the same sentence together right now.
“They’re all phallic,” Eames explains helpfully, “Do you know what I think we should do right now?”
“Eames,” Arthur warns.
“I’m thinking crawling under your desk and unzipping your perfectly tailored Dior trousers. And I’m thinking about pulling you out of those lovely silk boxers and just mouthing the head of your cock until you came.”
It’s Arthur’s poor self control that has allowed Eames to talk for this long—but he snaps back into himself and he leans forward to grab Eames by the wrist. His grip is tight and his voice is low in warning, “Eames.”
“Do you like pain?” Eames asks with a bright smile as if Arthur wasn’t crushing his wrist, “We can pick up a whip on the way home.”
Arthur lets go.
“What would you do if I got on my knees right now?” Eames asks earnestly.
“Eames,” Arthur says and stresses his words, “Go away.”
Eames only grins at him but he leaves to accost somebody else—possibly even to work. Arthur resists the urge to put his head down on the table because it would be highly unprofessional.
He’s really hard under the desk.
____
Saito sends him a box of condoms.
Eames laughs himself sick when he sees it.
Arthur doesn’t know what disturbs him more—that Saito knows the approximate size of his penis or that somewhere in the world, somebody would voluntarily stretch a Hello Kitty face across their dick.
____
“Eames,” Arthur says one night as he spits out his toothpaste, “We need to talk.”
“I agree,” Eames says as he slides his lips lazily down the curve of Arthur’s shoulder, “We really should talk more during sex. Like you. Saying my name. Repeatedly. More often.”
Arthur flicks the faucet off and Eames takes the opportunity to thread his fingers into the hair at the top of Arthur’s head and to tug back so that the long line of Arthur’s throat is exposed. Arthur’s Adam’s apple bobs briefly as he swallows and Eames drags his tongue along the side of Arthur’s neck.
“It’s about this,” Arthur says with impressive focus as Eames grinds his erection against the crack of Arthur’s ass, “Seriously, no more bites on the neck. I’ve had to avoid Cobb’s discussion of STDs more times than I’d care to admit.”
“Hmm,” Eames is more concerned with making Arthur incoherent than anything else.
“Seriously,” Arthur snaps, jerking his head and shoulders forward. He’d step away but he’s trapped against the sink.
Eames blinks. He studies Arthur’s frown in the mirror, the line in his forehead. There’s only the briefest of pauses and then he leans forward to drop a kiss on Arthur’s shoulder, “Of course, darling.”
Arthur doesn’t look entirely convinced but he lets Eames pull him into the bedroom anyway.
____
“Did you break up with her?” Ariadne asks after Arthur’s finished looking over their newest second level plans.
“Ah,” Arthur says, sounding faintly embarrassed. The marks on his neck must be fading more rapidly than he had first assumed. “Yes?”
Ariadne looks at him a little curiously with a trace of pity and she places a hand on his arm, “I’m sorry Arthur. If you want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.”
“…” Arthur says, “Thanks.”
____
“I am not okay with Ariadne touching you.”
“Is everyone gone already?” Arthur asks, “Did Eames leave too? I don’t recognize this possessive maniac currently in my company.”
Eames glowers.
He possibly also sulks.
Arthur tries not to find it terribly endearing.
____
“I bought you this,” Eames announces after dinner one night. He pulls out a box and Arthur has a moment of extreme panic in which he actually believes that Eames is crazy enough to actually be proposing to him.
There is, instead, a thin rod of silver in the velvet. The ends are tiny silver dice. It’s not something that Arthur would have ever picked out for himself but it’s just discreet enough that he might wear it. It takes him only a moment to recognize that it’s a collar bar.
Arthur looks at Eames. Eames is smiling at him—not the self-satisfied smirk that he usually wears after telling a good joke or the sly grin he’s wearing when he’s teasing Arthur. This one is all soft curves—barely a tilt of the lips and there’s a sort of nervous anticipation in his eyes and it’s when Arthur realizes—
“Let’s see how it looks,” Arthur hears himself saying and he plucks the bar out of the box. Eames shuts it and sets it aside. He takes the bar from Arthur’s fingers, glancing up to meet Arthur’s intent eyes for only a moment before he’s smoothing fingers against the hollow of Arthur’s throat and pinning the collar bar under his tie.
It fits perfectly. Eames straightens to look at it and there’s a strange sort of expression on his face. And Arthur thinks, oh, for just one tiny moment before Eames is sliding his fingers along the underside of Arthur’s tie.
He smiles, all teeth with heat in his eyes as he says, “Now let’s take you out of it.”
____
Ariadne and Yusuf are talking amongst themselves. Arthur doesn’t think much of it until five minutes later when two shadows fall across his laptop.
“Can I help you?” Arthur asks placidly.
“We were just wondering…” Ariadne begins before glancing to Yusuf.
“We were just curious where you got that new bling, Arthur,” Yusuf finishes merrily.
From across the room, Eames catches his eye and he winks.
Fandom Inception
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,918
Characters/Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Summary: Eames is a little possessive.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
Author's Note: This fic was written for
cobweb_diamond who writes so many amazing fics for the Inception fandom. I wanted to show a little love by picking up one of her prompts that didn't make it to the kinkmeme on time. The prompt was collar bars and in excellent taste. 8DDD Sorry if I ran with it way too much lololol.Ariadne has been staring at his neck ever since he walked into the warehouse that morning.
She’s trying to be very discreet about it and she’s only taking looks when he’s not looking, but Arthur certainly isn’t the best in the business for lack of observation. He does his best to keep his eyes on his laptop but the way that she keeps glancing over every once so often is kind of distracting.
Yusuf is much less discreet about it. He takes one look at Arthur as he passes by Arthur’s table on the way to his makeshift lab and he throws Arthur an enormous grin, “Somebody certainly got lucky last night.”
Arthur blinks once, very slowly. Then he chooses deliberately not to even dignify that with a response.
“Who’s the lucky lady?” Yusuf continues in a voice that suggests he would love to jab Arthur in the ribs with his elbow and wink at him. Arthur isn’t sure if Yusuf’s actually trying to strike up some form of ill-reputed bromance or just goading him on purpose.
“Not you,” Arthur replies dryly, not even taking his eyes off of his laptop screen.
Ariadne wanders over.
“Not you either,” Arthur says preemptively.
“I didn’t say anything,” Ariadne protests.
It’s at this point that Eames slides into the scene. He rests his elbows on Yusuf and Ariadne’s shoulders and smiles brightly at Arthur, “Would you mind terribly if we stood here and gossiped loudly about it?”
Arthur actually looks up at that. His eyes narrow at Eames and his answer is irritatedly clipped, “Yes.”
“Don’t tell me she left, love” Eames says earnestly, hand pressed to his chest, “Did she even give you a phone number? Are you hoping that she’ll call back?”
Ariadne looks at Arthur expectantly.
“I hope you’re not cheating on me,” Eames adds.
“Eames,” Arthur says with infinite patience, “Go away.”
Cobb doesn’t seem to notice it. Arthur almost forgets about it in the midst of sketching out plans for their newest mark. Arthur’s staring at the folder and trying to envision how they might lure and isolate the security on a locked floor or even a physical island when Cobb takes advantage of the lull and says, “I hope you’re being safe.”
“What?” Arthur asks as he looks up and notices that Cobb’s line of sight is aligned with the bruise on his neck. He can’t keep the, “Oh Jesus Christ,” from escaping his lips.
“I’m serious,” Cobb says.
“…” Arthur says.
“If you ever feel an itching—“
“This conversation is over,” Arthur says and he walks away.
“You know,” Eames says as he casually drapes himself over the back of Arthur’s chair, “You can tell me anything.”
There’s nobody else in the warehouse. Cobb always leaves early to cook dinner for his children, Ariadne has a mixer with her architect friends, and Yusuf said something earlier about attending to business with a smile that was far too sharp to suggest anything legitimate—all of which meant that there was nobody left to distract Eames except for Arthur.
Not that Eames didn’t distract Arthur while the others were there. Far from it.
“So,” Eames says, sliding his hands along the sides of the chair as Arthur steadily types away at his laptop, encryption programs flashing on the screen. Arthur has always been good at focusing—but unfortunately, not always on the right things.
Like Eames.
Eames spins the chair around and smirks at the faintly annoyed expression that passes over Arthur’s face before his eyes drop to Arthur’s neck. He lets his hand drift aimlessly up the sleek leather of the chair for a moment before he actually reaches out to touch the purpling mark on Arthur’s neck. Arthur stills under the light touch and his eyes darken.
Eames is practically purring. “Why don’t you tell me who left you with that.”
Arthur slides a hand around the back of Eames’s neck and pulls him down with a growl. Eames can make out the word against his lips without having to hear it.
“You.”
“There’s another one?”
Ariadne is not as quiet as she thinks she is. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur can see her craning her neck to stare at him.
He hooks a finger into the collar of his shirt and tries to pull it up without looking away from his laptop. Ariadne glances away guiltily. Arthur doubts that it did much good—they’ve been left higher and higher up on his neck, practically under his ear. He has no doubt that Eames does it just to make life more difficult for him.
“You seem to be getting serious, my friend,” Yusuf observes as he takes a seat across from Arthur, “Perhaps I can give you some relationship advice?”
Arthur stops working. He’s kind of intrigued by what kind of relationship advice Yusuf might have to offer.
“First,” Yusuf says, “You have to make sure that she’s not just sleeping with you for your stash of drugs.”
“Okay,” Arthur agrees.
“Second,” Yusuf continues, looking encouraged, “If she has four older brothers, it’s probably not a good idea to cheat on her.”
Arthur looks at Yusuf kind of blankly. He tries to remind himself that the man is a genius with chemicals.
“Third,” Yusuf pushes on, “If she sets a safe word but she starts ignoring you when you say it—it’s probably a pretty good sign that she’s really angry with you. Especially when she’s using the—”
“Thank you Yusuf,” Arthur says.
“If we had a safe word,” Eames says as he slides into the seat Yusuf has abandoned, “What would it be?”
“Trying to do work,” Arthur answers.
“That’s quite a mouthful,” Eames muses, “I was thinking more along the lines of carrot or candlestick or Cobb.”
Arthur chokes on nothing. He doesn’t actually want to think about Cobb and sex in the same sentence together right now.
“They’re all phallic,” Eames explains helpfully, “Do you know what I think we should do right now?”
“Eames,” Arthur warns.
“I’m thinking crawling under your desk and unzipping your perfectly tailored Dior trousers. And I’m thinking about pulling you out of those lovely silk boxers and just mouthing the head of your cock until you came.”
It’s Arthur’s poor self control that has allowed Eames to talk for this long—but he snaps back into himself and he leans forward to grab Eames by the wrist. His grip is tight and his voice is low in warning, “Eames.”
“Do you like pain?” Eames asks with a bright smile as if Arthur wasn’t crushing his wrist, “We can pick up a whip on the way home.”
Arthur lets go.
“What would you do if I got on my knees right now?” Eames asks earnestly.
“Eames,” Arthur says and stresses his words, “Go away.”
Eames only grins at him but he leaves to accost somebody else—possibly even to work. Arthur resists the urge to put his head down on the table because it would be highly unprofessional.
He’s really hard under the desk.
Saito sends him a box of condoms.
Eames laughs himself sick when he sees it.
Arthur doesn’t know what disturbs him more—that Saito knows the approximate size of his penis or that somewhere in the world, somebody would voluntarily stretch a Hello Kitty face across their dick.
“Eames,” Arthur says one night as he spits out his toothpaste, “We need to talk.”
“I agree,” Eames says as he slides his lips lazily down the curve of Arthur’s shoulder, “We really should talk more during sex. Like you. Saying my name. Repeatedly. More often.”
Arthur flicks the faucet off and Eames takes the opportunity to thread his fingers into the hair at the top of Arthur’s head and to tug back so that the long line of Arthur’s throat is exposed. Arthur’s Adam’s apple bobs briefly as he swallows and Eames drags his tongue along the side of Arthur’s neck.
“It’s about this,” Arthur says with impressive focus as Eames grinds his erection against the crack of Arthur’s ass, “Seriously, no more bites on the neck. I’ve had to avoid Cobb’s discussion of STDs more times than I’d care to admit.”
“Hmm,” Eames is more concerned with making Arthur incoherent than anything else.
“Seriously,” Arthur snaps, jerking his head and shoulders forward. He’d step away but he’s trapped against the sink.
Eames blinks. He studies Arthur’s frown in the mirror, the line in his forehead. There’s only the briefest of pauses and then he leans forward to drop a kiss on Arthur’s shoulder, “Of course, darling.”
Arthur doesn’t look entirely convinced but he lets Eames pull him into the bedroom anyway.
“Did you break up with her?” Ariadne asks after Arthur’s finished looking over their newest second level plans.
“Ah,” Arthur says, sounding faintly embarrassed. The marks on his neck must be fading more rapidly than he had first assumed. “Yes?”
Ariadne looks at him a little curiously with a trace of pity and she places a hand on his arm, “I’m sorry Arthur. If you want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.”
“…” Arthur says, “Thanks.”
“I am not okay with Ariadne touching you.”
“Is everyone gone already?” Arthur asks, “Did Eames leave too? I don’t recognize this possessive maniac currently in my company.”
Eames glowers.
He possibly also sulks.
Arthur tries not to find it terribly endearing.
“I bought you this,” Eames announces after dinner one night. He pulls out a box and Arthur has a moment of extreme panic in which he actually believes that Eames is crazy enough to actually be proposing to him.
There is, instead, a thin rod of silver in the velvet. The ends are tiny silver dice. It’s not something that Arthur would have ever picked out for himself but it’s just discreet enough that he might wear it. It takes him only a moment to recognize that it’s a collar bar.
Arthur looks at Eames. Eames is smiling at him—not the self-satisfied smirk that he usually wears after telling a good joke or the sly grin he’s wearing when he’s teasing Arthur. This one is all soft curves—barely a tilt of the lips and there’s a sort of nervous anticipation in his eyes and it’s when Arthur realizes—
“Let’s see how it looks,” Arthur hears himself saying and he plucks the bar out of the box. Eames shuts it and sets it aside. He takes the bar from Arthur’s fingers, glancing up to meet Arthur’s intent eyes for only a moment before he’s smoothing fingers against the hollow of Arthur’s throat and pinning the collar bar under his tie.
It fits perfectly. Eames straightens to look at it and there’s a strange sort of expression on his face. And Arthur thinks, oh, for just one tiny moment before Eames is sliding his fingers along the underside of Arthur’s tie.
He smiles, all teeth with heat in his eyes as he says, “Now let’s take you out of it.”
Ariadne and Yusuf are talking amongst themselves. Arthur doesn’t think much of it until five minutes later when two shadows fall across his laptop.
“Can I help you?” Arthur asks placidly.
“We were just wondering…” Ariadne begins before glancing to Yusuf.
“We were just curious where you got that new bling, Arthur,” Yusuf finishes merrily.
From across the room, Eames catches his eye and he winks.
