Inception Kink Fest

[cherrybina]

Welcome to the Inception fandom Kink Fest!

This fandom puts out some seriously amazing fic on a regular basis, but I am of the opinion that there should always always ALWAYS be more kinky porn. You guys, our fandom has guns and bondage and daddy issues and dream forgery. I say it's time to bring on the kink, yes?

♥ Inception Kink Fest ♥You can

Comments

Figure of My Heart 2/?

[anonymous]

The press of Eames’ fingers against his throat is surprising despite the fact that he’s expecting it. Eames’ hand is heavy on his neck, pressing the collar of his shirt into the soft flesh of his neck and reminding him of the weight advantage Eames has over him. Arthur’s not one to make excuses. He isn’t keen on losing either, and barking dogs seldom bite. He brought men twice Eames’ weight to their knees and he knows for sure that not every strong looking man can handle him or any other clever opponent for that matter. He’s quick and, despite what Eames says, quite inventive when it comes to killing someone. So it wasn’t like he made it easy for Eames that one time when they tested themselves and fought to survive.

Arthur remembers wheezing for breath first, then his vision going blurry as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness. Sometimes he jerks out of his sleep when he sees all those images again. He’s not dreaming, but they are there in his head and sometimes they make him leap up from his bed like he did that time when he woke up and couldn’t believe he was still alive. Occasionally his stomach still clenches when he remembers all the blood that poured out of it and Eames sitting next to him and watching him.

Eames presses his lips to Arthur’s hair, his grip on Arthur’s neck tightening.

“Eames.”

“Shut up.”

“Not now,” Arthur says and stands suddenly, stepping away from the desk. Eames doesn’t let him, though. His other hand wraps around Arthur’s wrist, and when he leans against him Arthur stumbles forward, his knees betraying him. His hands press against the smooth surface of his desk, trying to push himself away. He clenches his teeth, then his mouth opens on a cry as Eames bites him.

“Not now, I said.”

He struggles, annoyed at Eames’ ignorance. He’s had a shit day, and despite that, he’s managed to do some work and put himself together in order to be in an appropriate appearance for Mal’s party. Eames could at least acknowledge that. All he does, though, is press against him, his weight crushing Arthur and making it difficult for him to move. Behind him Eames is already hard, pressing against his ass; in front of him the edge of his desk is harder, boring itself into his hip bones painfully and leaving marks for sure.

“Fuck, Eames.”

Arthur tries to yank his hands away from his grip, but Eames wraps both hands over Arthur’s fist, presses harder. His nails are sharp on Arthur’s skin, his teeth on Arthur’s neck even sharper, they hear a bone crackling.

“We’ll be late, we -”

One of Eames’ hands moves down to Arthur’s belt and that’s all it takes for him to free himself. He doesn’t mean to hit him, though. He just wants to get away, look into his eyes and explain him why he’s not in the mood. But he hits him. Eames stumbles backwards, one hand on his cheek, the other gripping the table hard, and Arthur walks away, too angry and irritated to stop himself.