sibilantly | Entries tagged with pairing: arthur/eames

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 100
Carol prompt: The Boar's Head
Summary: After war comes the messy business of peacetime.

Eames has spent the whole journey rehearsing.

And so he stays composed, even as he's forced to present his father's war reparations on his knees; to slice the roasted boar for the Empress like a peasant.

But then the Empress' Captain of the Guard - Arthur - pulls Eames aside, and insists he eat first.

"Why?" Eames narrows his eyes. "You believe I'd try to poison your Empress?"

Arthur snorts. "You Northerners. You're so duplicitous, you assume everyone else must be, too. It's our custom that honoured guests eat first."

"I thought I was a political hostage?"

Arthur smiles thinly. "You're both."

Current Mood: accomplished

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Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 100
Carol prompt: Whence That Goodly Fragrance
Summary: Eames goes into heat.

It registers first as a bloom of heat, low in Eames' belly, prompting Eames to make his excuses to everyone.

His scent must be obvious, given the way Arthur watches him as he leaves. But it isn't until Eames calls that Arthur goes to him.

"God, you smell amazing," Arthur says, nosing along Eames' jaw. "And you look even better."

"Flatterer." Eames tips his head back. "I cannot believe you waited for an invitation. We've gone through two cycles together now."

"Didn't want to presume," Arthur says.

"In future," Eames says, "feel free to be as presumptuous as you like."

Current Mood: cheerful

Tags:

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 100
Carol prompt: Good King Wenceslas
Summary: They meet in the military.

Less than an hour into the war games, a team of projections take out Eames' men. Eames isn't so lucky; he's half-blind from flash grenades and bleeding out slowly, but very much alive when Arthur finds him.

"Do me a favour," Eames tells Arthur's fuzzy form. "Kill me quickly."

Arthur patches him up instead, saying, "We can still complete the extraction."

"How?" Eames snaps. "I can barely see, and this place is filled with traps."

"Can you see me?" When Eames nods, Arthur stands, hand outstretched. "Then follow me. I'll guide you."

After a moment's hesitation, Eames takes his hand.

Tags:

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Word count: 100

Carol prompt: Deck the Halls

Summary: As Louis C.K. once said, "The meal isn't over when I'm full. The meal is over when I hate myself."

Arthur's belt is digging into his waist. In hindsight, it wasn't wise, eating and drinking that much.

He contemplates the crudity of unbuckling in public, before deciding: fuck it. If it tanks his burgeoning relationship with Eames, they were never going to work out anyway.

But Eames simply says, "Thank Christ," and follows suit. "I need to get horizontal, asap."

"God, I hope you don't mean that in a sexual sense. I'll puke if we try anything."

Eames laughs, then groans slightly. "Come on. Let's go to bed and roll one another into the recovery position."

Arthur grins. "True romance."

Current Mood: cheerful

Tags:

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 100
Carol prompt: Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming
Summary: Arthur and Eames on the technicalities of a social construct.

“I’ve never been fucked by a man before,” Eames says, when they’re alone at lunch.

Arthur, now accustomed to these verbal ambushes, doesn’t even pause in eating. “That makes two of us.”

Eames stares. “You’re saying no bloke ever wanted—”

“They wanted,” Arthur says. “I didn’t.” And then, because he feels responsible for all aspects of Eames’ education, not just the dreamshare parts: “You know anal isn’t the be all and end all of gay sex, right?”

“I know,” Eames says. “But I want to. I’m eighteen soon. And I want you to—”

“Eames.” Arthur looks away, suddenly tired. “Enough.”

Current Mood: calm

Tags:

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."

Current Mood: relieved

Tags:

Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 350
Prompt: dramatic
Summary: Eames is under the weather.

“My kingdom,” Eames croaks, burrowing deeper under the blankets. “My kingdom for a cup of tea. And some lunch.”

“You don’t have a kingdom,” Arthur says from the living room. He doesn’t even pause in typing. “You have a family estate and a couple one-bedroom flats in different countries.”

Eames’ temples throb. It may or may not be due to illness. “Fine. My family estate and my eternal gratitude for a cup of tea and some lunch.” He throws in a pointed cough, which transforms into an extended bout of hacking and wheezing.

“Throw in the keys to your Aston Martin, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Arthur says, while his keyboard says clack-clack-clack. “But it’s still gonna cost you extra if you want me to bring them in to you.”

Eames sits up. “You blackhearted mercenary,” he says, aiming for aghast, but landing somewhat closer to admiring. “Are you really trying to swindle me while I’m on my death bed? Have you no shame?”

“Absolutely none.”

Eames flops back against the pillows, one arm flung over his eyes, and calls upon the last of his energy to loudly curse the gods for allowing him to give his heart to a callous monster— nay, a cruel ice prince, so wedded to his work that he hasn’t once checked on his supposed beloved since the morning—

“I can’t believe you’re making such a huge deal over a cold,” Arthur says, appearing in the doorway with a teacup in one hand and a sandwich in the other. He sets his offerings down, perches on the edge of the bed, and levels a dry look at Eames. “You didn’t even complain this much when you got shot last year.”

“Ah, but we were in the first flush of our relationship then,” Eames says. “I was still preoccupied with appearing tough and manly and whatnot.”

“Whereas now you’re feeling comfortable enough to reveal your ridiculously overdramatic true self?”

“My sensitive and delicate true self,” Eames corrects, “which you absolutely love.”

“I do.” Arthur sighs and smiles at the ceiling. “God help me, I do.”

Current Mood: calm

Tags:

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 500 words
Prompt: eternal
Summary: Arthur and Eames have a not-so-chance encounter.

Eames and his team are two levels down and only metres away from the safe when the windows blow in.

Eames hits the ground instinctively, rolls behind a couch as SWAT team pours in through windows like gun-toting ants, screaming for everyone to surrender.

Everyone (save Eames) runs instead.

There’s sporadic gunfire in the hallway outside, punctuated by curses and screams as Eames’ team is kicked out, one by one. Then: silence.

Eames peers over the back of the couch, only to find himself the sole target of Arthur’s exasperated stare.

“I can’t believe you’re working today, of all days,” Arthur says, tucking his helmet under his arm. “I should probably shoot you just for that.”

“But you won’t.” Eames gets to his feet, smiling his most charming smile. “Not yet, anyway. And you must admit, it’s somewhat fitting, me working today.”

Arthur sighs, fondness diluting the exasperation. “Maybe.” He looks Eames up and down. “You look good.”

“Of course I do,” Eames says. His face and hands sting from a dozen tiny nicks and cuts. He’s covered in dust and splinters. The ever-present dull throbbing in his knee has upgraded to a stabbing pain. He feels the furthest thing from good, or even looking good.

Now, Arthur, on the other hand— Arthur actually looks good.

Arthur grins when Eames says as much. “Well, to be fair, it’s easier for me,” he says, devoid of humility as ever, and Eames’ chest aches with fondness. Arthur walks over to him, tugging off his gloves and kevlar vest; he nods upward. “How long before they give you the kick?”

“A while, I’d imagine,” Eames replies. “They’re likely debating whether I’m working something out or dying a slow, terrible death.”

“You need to get on top of that. You can’t have your team hesitating over what to do on live jobs.”

“Thank you for that unsolicited critique.” Eames doesn't roll his eyes - it seems undignified at this stage of his life - but it’s a near thing. He tries to remember who was in charge of this militarisation (and therefore responsible for this Arthur’s persnicketiness) before realising, oh— it was Eames himself. “However, they’ve performed dozens of these militarisations now.”

“Dozens?” Arthur stares. “You mean— you actually went ahead with it?” Disbelieving laughter accompanies the last word. “Eames. That’s—” He shakes his head, lets out a long breath. “That’s a hell of a lot of effort for a private joke.”

“It started as a joke.” Eames smiles, wistful, remembering how Arthur had laughed until he cried over the irony of living forever as the bogeyman of illegal dreamshare. “And then it became an experiment.” Because Arthur, after all, had never met a novel dreaming concept he hadn’t wanted to woo and get to know better. “And now...”

Arthur takes Eames’ hand. “Now?”

Eames stares down at their hands; at Arthur’s calloused but unlined fingers, and his own slackened, papery-thin skin. His throat tightens. “Now it’s an odd, ridiculous memorial for an odd, ridiculous man.”

Current Mood: accomplished

Tags:

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 200
Prompt: helping hand
Summary: Eames likes to talk. Arthur prefers to act.

Eames breaks his fingers two days into the job.

It doesn't spell disaster, given that the bulk of his work is performed unconscious. But let it never be said that Eames is incapable of raising an unbelievable fuss over nothing.

"--however, the worst thing," Eames says, rounding off a ten-minute long litany of complaints, "is that wanking has been absolutely dismal."

Arthur snorts, tolerantly amused. He tosses his notebook aside, then reaches over and undoes Eames' fly, both his fingers and expression no-nonsense.

Eames blinks. "Erm?"

Arthur pauses, frowning. "...you weren't asking me to help you out?"

"If I wanted that, I would've said," Eames says, slowly.

"What?" Arthur scoffs. "No, you wouldn't have. You're the king of oblique come-ons. Last month, you invited me out for drinks, and the only thing I ended up drinking was your come." He sighs when Eames wrinkles his nose, and leans back. "So you don't want me to--?" He gestures at Eames' crotch.

"...I never said that." Eames spreads his legs. "But I won't be able to return the favour, sadly."

"That's fine." Arthur draws Eames' cock out, starts jacking him to full hardness. "Your jaw isn't broken, right?"

Current Mood: amused

Tags:

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 200
Prompt: older
Summary: You only get one chance to make a good first impression.

Arthur first meets Eames in a dream.

Eames is all full lips, gorgeous grey eyes, broad shoulders, and tight, rounded ass; everything about him is crooked, from his teeth to his tie to his smirk, and Arthur wants.

So Arthur flirts.

There's a moment of uncertainty - a moment where Eames' only response is a startled blink - before Eames smiles, reciprocating with charming (if confusing) coyness. By the time the clock has run down, Arthur is certain he's going to get laid.

He wakes smiling. Turns his head. Is greeted by the sight of those full lips and grey eyes - now fluttering open - in a face that looks to be a whole decade younger.

"What," Arthur says, as the kid - Eames - sits up, "the hell."

Eames raises his hands. "Cobb told me to. He said if I wanted in on this job - in on dreamshare - I had to impress you."

"Well," Arthur says, slightly strangled, once his thoughts have transitioned from Dom, you fucker to fuck, a forger, "consider me impressed."

Eames beams. It's nothing like the sly smirk he'd been sporting in the dream. It's wide, boyishly excited, and, much to Arthur's chagrin, has an appeal all of its own.

Current Mood: pleased

Tags:

Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word count: 200
Prompt: mellow
Summary: Eames draws the short straw.

"Liu's onto us, so either we do the extraction tonight or not at all," Eames says, and braces himself.

Arthur looks up from his laptop, frowning. Then--

"Okay," he says, and resumes typing.

Eames eyes him. They've only been on a handful of jobs together, but Eames has already borne witness (more than once) to Arthur's shoot-the-messenger style of stress relief. Perhaps this one's on a time delay. Or--

"I'm not going to yell at you, if that's what you're waiting for," Arthur says. "It's not like it'll achieve anything."

"Forgive me if this sounds indelicate," Eames says, "but that has never stopped you before."

Arthur snorts. "Keeping the team on track is part of my job. Sometimes people need the fear of God put into them before they'll do their best work. Or, y'know, any work." He smiles wryly. "Criminals with work ethic issues, who would've thought? But you're not one of them, so--" Another shrug.

Interesting, Eames thinks, and revises his estimate of Arthur's volatility. He gestures at Arthur's files. "Want to divvy those up? It'll go faster with two people."

Arthur nudges a stack toward him. "And you're somehow surprised I don't yell at you."

Current Mood: chipper

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DRABBLE: to the victor (Twelvetide Drabble #11)
DRABBLE: Scent (Twelvetide Drabble #8)
Drabble: Taking Point (Twelvetide Drabble #6)
DRABBLE: And Be Merry (Twelvetide 2016 Drabble #2)
DRABBLE: (de)flower (Twelvetide 2016 Drabble #1)
FICLET: If At First
FICLET: in sickness and in health
FICLET: Persistence
FICLET: Clarity
FICLET: so it would appear
FICLET: Take It Easy

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Entries tagged with pairing: arthur/eames

DRABBLE: to the victor (Twelvetide Drabble #11)

DRABBLE: Scent (Twelvetide Drabble #8)

Drabble: Taking Point (Twelvetide Drabble #6)

DRABBLE: And Be Merry (Twelvetide 2016 Drabble #2)

DRABBLE: (de)flower (Twelvetide 2016 Drabble #1)

FICLET: If At First

FICLET: in sickness and in health

FICLET: Persistence

FICLET: Clarity

FICLET: so it would appear

FICLET: Take It Easy

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December 2018

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