I'm Gonna Take You Out; Inception: Arthur/Cobb, light Cobb/Mal; Formal clothing/BondageblualbinoAugust 29 2010, 06:46:30 UTC
(Um, hi. You don't know me, but I hope you like this :))
Sometimes Cobb wonders if Arthur doesn’t dress up just because he knows how badly Cobb wants to dress him down afterwards. He knows he’s not supposed to, but god does he want to; wants to muss Arthur’s hair and pull him around by his tie and push his slacks down around his ankles, get his wrists caught in his jacket and watch him squirm.
Cobb didn’t think he was this violent, this demanding when it came to want, but, then again, look what he did to Mal. A stab of guilt goes through him and in his mind’s eye Arthur makes a needy, breathless sound.
It isn’t long before Cobb turns to his projections.
His Arthur is in a gunmetal grey suit, three buttons, and a silvery blue tie that Mal bought him as a thanks for being a good friend, but his Arthur doesn’t pull away when Cobb rolls the fabric around his fist, tugging Arthur into him. His Arthur is pliant, malleable. His lips shape to fit against Cobb’s mouth while he pulls their hips together. Cobb is greedy. He can be.
Mal is there, a coy smile on her face and a gun resting against her hip. Cobb is unafraid.
The tie is the first to go, sliding out of Arthur’s lapel like water. Arthur holds his hands behind his back obediently while Cobb ties them together, just another reminder that his isn’t real, that Arthur would fight and only a flimsy, pornographic projection would allow himself to be tied up with his own wardrobe.
“It’s okay, Dom,” Mal says soothingly. His Arthur smiles, soft, his cheek dimpling.
Cobb undoes the buttons along Arthur’s suit jacket, the seams of them unraveling under his fingers and the buttons themselves clacking to the floor. He pushes the jacket off Arthur’s shoulders until it gets caught in the tie knotted between Arthur’s wrists. His Arthur’s hair is all flicked out of shape by Cobb’s fingers. Slowly, delicately, Cobb pulls the tails of Arthur’s shirt out of his slacks, pushing the fabric up with his palms. He doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen Arthur’s shirt untucked before. He drinks up the sight until Arthur says his name, frustrated.
Arthur’s hips roll when Cobb pulls his belt from its loops, and Arthur’s slacks slide down his hips, baring the edges of an undershirt and warm skin, literally made for Cobb to dig his fingers into until Arthur hisses.
“Sorry,” Cobb says reflexively.
“Again,” Arthur insists.
Cobb moves his fingers to the tented front of Arthur’s slacks, the button and zipper falling off under his fingertips. He watches the slacks fall, his fingers mapping Arthur’s stomach while the fabric slides down Arthur’s legs. They catch at the projection’s knees and his Arthur brings his legs together with a groan, urging them down. Arthur nearly stumbles over them getting to his knees.
His Arthur rests his head along Cobb’s inseam. He can feel a hint of Arthur’s stubble through his slacks, pricking at his thigh. Cobb’s breathing sounds loud even to him, rough and unsteady. His hand is in Arthur’s mussed hair and Arthur’s eyes are closed. He looks in ecstasy, like sex itself.
“Dom,” he breathes.
Cobb feels the groan rumbling through his chest more than he hears it, too busy fumbling down his own zipper, thumbing his belt open, watching Arthur lick his bottom lip like a starving man. Arthur swallows him down, the head of his cock hitting the back of his Arthur’s throat, dispossessed as he is of real Arthur’s oversensitive gag reflex. He hums, the vibration nearly making Cobb’s eyes roll back into his head. For a second, he wishes he could feel like this forever; before he realizes that he can. Arthur doesn’t have to sleep or eat or even breath if Cobb puts his mind to it. He doesn’t have do anything but kneel here, half dressed like an opened present, and let Cobb fuck his mouth for an eternity.
Re: I'm Gonna Take You Out; Inception: Arthur/Cobb, light Cobb/Mal; Formal clothing/Bondagedefiant_deviantAugust 29 2010, 20:50:40 UTC
Ffff this is so awesome and I love you for it. The little details you had in there just made it and it was extremely hot. This is definitely one of those fics you keep in your pocket for a rainy day.
Also, the last bit was just perfect and I grinned like a fool. Thank you so much for popping the meme cherry for me and for this thoughtful piece. I'll make it up to you just as soon as I can stop flailing under such a wonderful distraction <3
Sometimes Cobb wonders if Arthur doesn’t dress up just because he knows how badly Cobb wants to dress him down afterwards. He knows he’s not supposed to, but god does he want to; wants to muss Arthur’s hair and pull him around by his tie and push his slacks down around his ankles, get his wrists caught in his jacket and watch him squirm.
Cobb didn’t think he was this violent, this demanding when it came to want, but, then again, look what he did to Mal. A stab of guilt goes through him and in his mind’s eye Arthur makes a needy, breathless sound.
It isn’t long before Cobb turns to his projections.
His Arthur is in a gunmetal grey suit, three buttons, and a silvery blue tie that Mal bought him as a thanks for being a good friend, but his Arthur doesn’t pull away when Cobb rolls the fabric around his fist, tugging Arthur into him. His Arthur is pliant, malleable. His lips shape to fit against Cobb’s mouth while he pulls their hips together. Cobb is greedy. He can be.
Mal is there, a coy smile on her face and a gun resting against her hip. Cobb is unafraid.
The tie is the first to go, sliding out of Arthur’s lapel like water. Arthur holds his hands behind his back obediently while Cobb ties them together, just another reminder that his isn’t real, that Arthur would fight and only a flimsy, pornographic projection would allow himself to be tied up with his own wardrobe.
“It’s okay, Dom,” Mal says soothingly. His Arthur smiles, soft, his cheek dimpling.
Cobb undoes the buttons along Arthur’s suit jacket, the seams of them unraveling under his fingers and the buttons themselves clacking to the floor. He pushes the jacket off Arthur’s shoulders until it gets caught in the tie knotted between Arthur’s wrists. His Arthur’s hair is all flicked out of shape by Cobb’s fingers. Slowly, delicately, Cobb pulls the tails of Arthur’s shirt out of his slacks, pushing the fabric up with his palms. He doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen Arthur’s shirt untucked before. He drinks up the sight until Arthur says his name, frustrated.
Arthur’s hips roll when Cobb pulls his belt from its loops, and Arthur’s slacks slide down his hips, baring the edges of an undershirt and warm skin, literally made for Cobb to dig his fingers into until Arthur hisses.
“Sorry,” Cobb says reflexively.
“Again,” Arthur insists.
Cobb moves his fingers to the tented front of Arthur’s slacks, the button and zipper falling off under his fingertips. He watches the slacks fall, his fingers mapping Arthur’s stomach while the fabric slides down Arthur’s legs. They catch at the projection’s knees and his Arthur brings his legs together with a groan, urging them down. Arthur nearly stumbles over them getting to his knees.
His Arthur rests his head along Cobb’s inseam. He can feel a hint of Arthur’s stubble through his slacks, pricking at his thigh. Cobb’s breathing sounds loud even to him, rough and unsteady. His hand is in Arthur’s mussed hair and Arthur’s eyes are closed. He looks in ecstasy, like sex itself.
“Dom,” he breathes.
Cobb feels the groan rumbling through his chest more than he hears it, too busy fumbling down his own zipper, thumbing his belt open, watching Arthur lick his bottom lip like a starving man. Arthur swallows him down, the head of his cock hitting the back of his Arthur’s throat, dispossessed as he is of real Arthur’s oversensitive gag reflex. He hums, the vibration nearly making Cobb’s eyes roll back into his head. For a second, he wishes he could feel like this forever; before he realizes that he can. Arthur doesn’t have to sleep or eat or even breath if Cobb puts his mind to it. He doesn’t have do anything but kneel here, half dressed like an opened present, and let Cobb fuck his mouth for an eternity.
The thought is terrifying, intoxicating.
Cobb wonders who put it there.
Reply
Also, the last bit was just perfect and I grinned like a fool. Thank you so much for popping the meme cherry for me and for this thoughtful piece. I'll make it up to you just as soon as I can stop flailing under such a wonderful distraction <3
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment