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

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[airgiodslv]

Eames takes a third job with Cobb in spite of - or possibly because of - Arthur’s continued presence on his team. Arthur grates on Eames’ nerves, but he also gets under Eames’ skin, which is a puzzle Eames hasn’t fully untangled yet. There’s nothing Eames enjoys better than figuring out someone he doesn’t completely understand.

This particular job is longer than he’d prefer, straddling the full moon and ensuring that he’ll have to take at least two days off before and after the change. Thankfully the lead-up to the moon is during the initial prep week of intel-gathering and discussion, which means he won’t miss anything terribly critical that he can’t catch up on later. The last few waxing days are the worst.

It’s unlikely that he’ll be able to hide what he is from the team. Eames gets more aggressive during the last few days before the moon, establishing dominance over anyone else who threatens his status and distracted by his own shifting senses. He’s already discreetly warned Cobb, because Cobb has a tendency to throw his weight around in a way that Eames as an alpha can only tolerate in human form, and even then his patience is limited.

The others shouldn’t be a problem. Tuponile has nothing to prove, content with his beakers and syringes, and Arthur trots after Cobb like a dog himself. An architect-point man partnership is not the strangest thing Eames has ever encountered, but it’s among the ranks. It also puts Eames as the extractor further outside the loop than he’d prefer, considering that it’s so often his neck on the line.

He’s twitchy, the day before the moon, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He doodles flowcharts to help his brain organize the job more effectively, picks through the details of Cobb’s latest model for the cemetery they’ll be dreaming in, and helps Tuponile out a few times by holding and measuring various mysterious liquids.

He doesn’t volunteer to go under as a test subject. It’s not wise, with his body chemistry already starting to change. That honor goes to Arthur, who is longsuffering as usual but infinitely easier to get along with while asleep. Eames wishes Tuponile had more to test, this early on; with Cobb still designing, there’s not much reason for any of them to be dreaming. Eames has already clashed with Arthur twice today over office supplies and once over who was allowed to sit in the revolving chair with the armrests.

Eames is not at his best, this time of the month.

Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, when Eames has reorganized Arthur’s filing system, commandeered all of his red pens and the full set of whiteboard markers, rewritten his notes on the mark’s schedule, and taken over the contested chair, he realizes that he’s reacting to Arthur as an alpha. The most he’s done to Cobb is given him a dark look when Cobb drank the last of the coffee and put the pot back empty, and Eames might have done that no matter what day it was. Arthur does it twice a week without there being any biological imperative in play besides caffeine addiction.

He keeps a closer eye on Arthur after that, both Arthur’s behavior and his own responses. Arthur gives him a few skeptical looks after Eames sidles by his work area the first few times, but they have their rules in place, neatly ironed out after the screaming row they’d gotten into on their last job together, so once it becomes clear that Eames is going to keep walking behind him for no apparent reason, Arthur ignores him.

Eames is surprised by how vehemently he dislikes that.

He supposes it makes sense. Arthur is currently a member of his pack, and members of his pack should be paying attention, watching him for orders. They shouldn’t be writing blithely on whiteboards with markers that Eames took away from them once already, pretending they don’t know Eames is right behind them, smelling like expensive aftershave and spices from a take-out lunch.