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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“I read,” Arthur replies, still searching Eames’ face. Eames becomes suddenly aware that his hands are still on Arthur’s hips, now resting lightly over the curves of bone. “You should have told me,” Arthur continues, straightening up just enough that Eames is forced to take a step back and release him in order to maintain a reasonable amount of personal space between them. “I would have been more considerate.”
“Yes, well, then I wouldn’t have confiscated half the contents of your desk,” Eames replies inanely. He doesn’t even know exactly what he’s saying, but it makes Arthur smile, just the slightest curl at the corners of his mouth. Eames takes another step back, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “I think I’ll take a walk.”
“Take all the time you need,” Arthur offers, and it’s not until Eames is outside with the fresh air clearing his head that he realizes Arthur just gave him permission, like he’s Eames’ leader rather than the other way around.
“Bugger,” Eames says to himself, and extends his walk to a second loop of the waterfront.
When he returns to the warehouse, things are better. He keeps catching Tuponile staring at him like he’s grown a second head, but Cobb has taken Eames’ momentary lapse of control as a signal to keep everyone busy and distracted so that Eames can have some breathing space.
The sole problem with this arrangement is that Cobb has redirected all of the bossing around he’d usually be doing into being passive-aggressive at Arthur, and apparently this is not something Eames can tolerate either.
He ignores it for the most part, like an itch right between his shoulder blades that he can’t get at to scratch, up until Arthur makes a suggestion about underground passages between the mausoleums and Cobb shoots him down so dismissively that Arthur’s spine goes taut and stiff.
Eames growls.
Tuponile is so startled that he drops a beaker, which bounces and clatters against the cement floor. Cobb looks surprised, then chagrined, and backs off with his hands up, visibly biting back whatever he’d been about to say. Arthur…
Arthur looks intrigued.
Eames is not especially comfortable with that look on Arthur’s face the day before the moon.
He doesn’t figure out what it means until late in the evening, until he’s feeling restless and snappish and so irritable he can barely stand himself, and it takes him too long to understand why, because Arthur is doing everything right. Arthur is moving in arcs, the crisp clean lines of him cutting wide circles around claimed territory. He’s keeping his eyes lowered, not maintaining eye contact in any way that could be considered challenging. He’s even managed to stay in direct line of sight for most of the evening, not straying anywhere he can’t be seen.
And he’s doing all of those things for Cobb.
Eames still can’t quite believe that he’s not imagining it, that it’s not another distortion all in his head brought on by body chemistry and hormones, until he catches the tail end of a conversation about the mark’s family.
“If you think it will ameliorate…” Arthur concedes.
“I do. Good, that’s taken care of,” Cobb decides, and Eames is already on the verge of another verbal warning when he sees Arthur bend his head, so slightly that it can hardly be noticed, and show Cobb the back of his neck. As he does, his eyes cut sideways, locking on Eames’.
Arthur is baiting him.
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