Eames/Fischer x 3
These were made as responses over at inception_kink.
Anonymous Prompt: "Eames/Robert. - Eames finds himself fascinated with Robert's crisp white shirt, silk tie, silver cufflinks."
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eames/Fischer
Warnings: Clothing love, fixation
Robert Fischer is perfect.
Robert Fischer is extremely fucked up.
Robert Fischer is beautiful. Eames is a little incredulous, though, that all the while they've been studying him, he hasn't ever worn the same suit twice. What does he do, use an outfit once and then dispose of it? How many can he own?
Eames is fascinated by how nice each suit looks. How can they all look custom-made for that lithe, bony body of his? How would he find the time to get a whole closet full of suits tailored to fit him perfectly?
But they do, and Eames is becoming fond of tracing the young heir's frame in the photographs they obtain.
He notices that under these suits, Fischer almost always wears crisp white shirts. Eames never understood the concept of starching collars, it seems like a ridiculous waste of time to him, but he has to concede that the stiff fabric looks strangely appealing against Fischer's pale skin.
While the suits change, the cufflinks always stay the same. It's a round, silver pair. Eames wonders what makes them so special. A gift from the man's unloving father, perhaps?
And the tie: They change as frequently as the suits, but Eames is fairly certain they're all silk. He would like to get a hold of one, feel it to be certain and know just how fine it is. He'd like to throw it to the floor without care.
He wonders if Fischer would mind if Eames creased his collar in a fist while he pulled and held him against himself for a kiss. He doesn't think Fischer should worry one bit if the suit he was wearing ended up in a wadded pile at the end of a bed.
Anonymous Errant Comment: "THIS IS HIGHLY RELEVANT TO MY INTERESTS. PLEASE ANON, MAKE THIS HAPPEN."
Rating: R-ish?
Pairing: Arthur/Eames/Fischer
Warnings: Nudity
A month after the successful Inception of Robert Fischer, Arthur strode into the team's warehouse. After a hurried search, he found Eames hooked into a dream machine, Yusuf sitting beside him.
"What is he doing?"
"Practicing," Yusuf explained. The Forger needed to always be innovating and letting his imagination run wild in order to keep in form.
Arthur sighed and pulled another wire from the machine.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Yusuf said hesitantly.
"I need to talk to him about the next job. It's important." Arthur sat down and hooked himself in.
It was a fancy hotel. "Eames?" Arthur made his way down the hall and entered the only illuminated door.
"Eames, are you--"
The Forger was on the bed with a deer-in-headlights look on his face. He had that look on his face and not an scrap of material on his body. Also on the bed was an equally naked Robert Fischer. But this Robert Fischer wasn't the one they had known.
Everything from his flushed complexion to the dilation of his eyes to his body language to the expression on his face, all read Fuck me.
Arthur's mouth fell open a little.
"Arthur," Eames said a little breathlessly, obviously flustered, "I, uh... Nevermind this. Perhaps we should, uh, go somewhere else." He began to get up and gather his clothing from the floor, causing a disappointed look in his Fischer projection.
Arthur stopped him, removing his own suit jacket instead. "This is highly relevant to my interests! Please Eames, make this happen!"
And now, my favorite one:
Anonymous Prompt: "Robert Fischer Jr./Other. - Guys. Robert is played by CILLIAN FUCKING MURPHY. THE PRETTIEST MAN ALIVE. So somebody needs to write him getting desperately and messily fucked by one of the guy characters. Preferably Cobb, but I'd take Arthur or Eames as well. Just as long as the ridiculously gorgeous Robert Fischer jr. gets fucked raw."
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Eames/Fischer
Warnings: Graphic sex, rough sex, PWP
Eames couldn't stand just looking at Fischer any longer. He was so prim and clean and so incredibly vulnerable, Eames didn't have the will power to just let him be. Fischer's mere existence was begging Eames to do so very many things to him.
That's how they ended up here, in a hotel room in Los Angeles. Eames had cornered him in a bar, and although Fischer had been reluctant at first, there wasn't anything anyone could do to resist the forger when he was bent upon an objective like this.
Tie off, jacket off, rip, who cares, get it all off. Robert tried to keep up with Eames' kissing and forceful hands, but the poor thing obviously wasn't used to this kind of foreplay. Eames divested Robert of all his clothes, then broke skin contact with him long enough to hastily throw off his own garments.
"You're gorgeous, love," he intoned with a smile. He meant it. He wasn't going to take too long to look, though, not when he could take.
Robert actually blushed. He had so much, but he was obviously unfamiliar with being treated with any real affection. Eames didn't know if what he had to offer was that exactly - it was more of unrestrainable, pounding lust - but whatever, he'd make Robert Fischer feel good at least.
He pushed Robert backward and essentially knocked him down onto the bed. The svelte man tensed in surprise as his back hit the mattress and Eames quickly pressed over him, lips locking over a spot on his neck and hands taking hold of his sides.
Svelte, Eames thought again. Fischer was barely shorter than himself, but his frame was tiny. Eames could tell he was someone who ran a lot, maybe too much. Always striving to be perfect, pretty dear? Eames thought.
He was thin and Eames felt like he could break him. He wouldn't, though. Not literally anyway.
He released his neck and moved up to his lips, claiming them hard. Anyone who looked at Robert tomorrow would be able to tell he'd had the fuck kissed out of him.
He sat up between Robert's legs and took in his face. Robert was looking up at him with wide eyes; he was a little freaked out by Eames' force, but very, very excited. Eames stroked the man's thighs and stomach, arousing a shiver from him.
"Please, touch me," Fischer managed.
Eames complied, taking hold and expertly stroking Robert in one hand, the other roaming every dip and bump of his chest. "You like that?"
Robert nodded and panted. "God yes."
Eames put two fingers to those pouty lips. "Suck on these."
Robert hesitated but did so, and fuck, the hesitancy was even hotter than the hot wet suction sealing around Eames' digits. The way his pink tongue lapped the forger's finger tip first before pulling him into his mouth made Eames wonder if he had the patience to get a blow job before the main attraction.
He didn't. He removed his hand from Robert's dick to bury in his hair, and when Robert's mouth opened in a little disappointed moan, Eames pulled his fingers out.
The preparation was not slow and careful. It was only enough so that they could physically do this. The first inward push of Eames' index finger, however, was slow. Because jesus fucking christ it was tight. Eames went about readying Robert enough to make that tightness bearable, but he was quite distracted by the blue eyes watching him. Why would nature ever render such color into a human being?
When that was done well enough, Eames laid over Robert again and lined up. Robert made a sound when he entered him, but Eames covered his mouth with his own to capture and possess even that.
Eames wasn't wasting time. Robert was crushing heat around him. His pace was set at fast right from the start, not giving the smaller man time to adjust. Robert cried out at the suddenness and weight of such an onslaught, then just gasped shaky breaths and clung to Eames.
Eames' hands went to Robert's hips so he could thrust into him harder, get more leverage and control. Robert let him have it, surrendering his own counter-movements and just letting the strong waves of pleasure wash over him. "Oh, god!" broke out in his voice.
Eames felt he had to tell him his thoughts.
"You're better this way, you know?" He alternated series of shallow, very quick thrusts with deep, bone-jolting ones. "Debauched, I mean. Moaning and giving up everything but letting me pound into you. The world should envy me at this moment." He kissed Robert, a wet and messy placement of lips and tongue. "They see pristine, commendable Robert Fischer Junior. They don't get to see how utterly, wantonly beautiful you are."
Robert looked at him like he didn't know what to say to that. Hadn't anyone ever told him he was fuckably gorgeous?
Eames continued pounding into him. Robert's every breath became noisy, pleading gasps, and Eames was not quiet himself, couldn't possibly have been quiet if his life depended on it. Fuck, he wanted Fischer's prostate to be bruised when he was done with him.
Robert trembled and his legs squeezed around Eames. Eames moved a hand between them and fisted Robert's leaking cock. Very soon after, the slender man shouted and his eyes closed, head thrown back as he came into the thief's deft hand. All that pressure coalescing - Robert's legs around his waist, his arms around his back, the blissfully hot inside of him - Eames came with a harsh cry of his own.
He forced out two more thrusts into Robert, then they both groaned as he slumped on top of him. He took a moment to test the reactions of Robert's nipple with his teeth, then pulled out of him. He collapsed on the bed beside him, pushing him easily onto his side like a fucked-out rag doll.
Robert looked disbelieving and stunned, mouth open as he tried to breathe and eyes unfocused. Looking at him made Eames feel confident that Robert Fischer had never been fucked so well before. He was sweaty and totally disheveled, spent. It was such a turn on.
He caressed over Robert's shoulder and down his back. "Get on your hands and knees."
Robert blinked and his eyes focused finally on Eames' face. "What?"
Eames smiled. "Lovely, we're going another round."
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Anonymous Prompt: "Eames/Robert. - Eames finds himself fascinated with Robert's crisp white shirt, silk tie, silver cufflinks."
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eames/Fischer
Warnings: Clothing love, fixation
Robert Fischer is perfect.
Robert Fischer is extremely fucked up.
Robert Fischer is beautiful. Eames is a little incredulous, though, that all the while they've been studying him, he hasn't ever worn the same suit twice. What does he do, use an outfit once and then dispose of it? How many can he own?
Eames is fascinated by how nice each suit looks. How can they all look custom-made for that lithe, bony body of his? How would he find the time to get a whole closet full of suits tailored to fit him perfectly?
But they do, and Eames is becoming fond of tracing the young heir's frame in the photographs they obtain.
He notices that under these suits, Fischer almost always wears crisp white shirts. Eames never understood the concept of starching collars, it seems like a ridiculous waste of time to him, but he has to concede that the stiff fabric looks strangely appealing against Fischer's pale skin.
While the suits change, the cufflinks always stay the same. It's a round, silver pair. Eames wonders what makes them so special. A gift from the man's unloving father, perhaps?
And the tie: They change as frequently as the suits, but Eames is fairly certain they're all silk. He would like to get a hold of one, feel it to be certain and know just how fine it is. He'd like to throw it to the floor without care.
He wonders if Fischer would mind if Eames creased his collar in a fist while he pulled and held him against himself for a kiss. He doesn't think Fischer should worry one bit if the suit he was wearing ended up in a wadded pile at the end of a bed.
Anonymous Errant Comment: "THIS IS HIGHLY RELEVANT TO MY INTERESTS. PLEASE ANON, MAKE THIS HAPPEN."
Rating: R-ish?
Pairing: Arthur/Eames/Fischer
Warnings: Nudity
A month after the successful Inception of Robert Fischer, Arthur strode into the team's warehouse. After a hurried search, he found Eames hooked into a dream machine, Yusuf sitting beside him.
"What is he doing?"
"Practicing," Yusuf explained. The Forger needed to always be innovating and letting his imagination run wild in order to keep in form.
Arthur sighed and pulled another wire from the machine.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Yusuf said hesitantly.
"I need to talk to him about the next job. It's important." Arthur sat down and hooked himself in.
It was a fancy hotel. "Eames?" Arthur made his way down the hall and entered the only illuminated door.
"Eames, are you--"
The Forger was on the bed with a deer-in-headlights look on his face. He had that look on his face and not an scrap of material on his body. Also on the bed was an equally naked Robert Fischer. But this Robert Fischer wasn't the one they had known.
Everything from his flushed complexion to the dilation of his eyes to his body language to the expression on his face, all read Fuck me.
Arthur's mouth fell open a little.
"Arthur," Eames said a little breathlessly, obviously flustered, "I, uh... Nevermind this. Perhaps we should, uh, go somewhere else." He began to get up and gather his clothing from the floor, causing a disappointed look in his Fischer projection.
Arthur stopped him, removing his own suit jacket instead. "This is highly relevant to my interests! Please Eames, make this happen!"
And now, my favorite one:
Anonymous Prompt: "Robert Fischer Jr./Other. - Guys. Robert is played by CILLIAN FUCKING MURPHY. THE PRETTIEST MAN ALIVE. So somebody needs to write him getting desperately and messily fucked by one of the guy characters. Preferably Cobb, but I'd take Arthur or Eames as well. Just as long as the ridiculously gorgeous Robert Fischer jr. gets fucked raw."
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Eames/Fischer
Warnings: Graphic sex, rough sex, PWP
Eames couldn't stand just looking at Fischer any longer. He was so prim and clean and so incredibly vulnerable, Eames didn't have the will power to just let him be. Fischer's mere existence was begging Eames to do so very many things to him.
That's how they ended up here, in a hotel room in Los Angeles. Eames had cornered him in a bar, and although Fischer had been reluctant at first, there wasn't anything anyone could do to resist the forger when he was bent upon an objective like this.
Tie off, jacket off, rip, who cares, get it all off. Robert tried to keep up with Eames' kissing and forceful hands, but the poor thing obviously wasn't used to this kind of foreplay. Eames divested Robert of all his clothes, then broke skin contact with him long enough to hastily throw off his own garments.
"You're gorgeous, love," he intoned with a smile. He meant it. He wasn't going to take too long to look, though, not when he could take.
Robert actually blushed. He had so much, but he was obviously unfamiliar with being treated with any real affection. Eames didn't know if what he had to offer was that exactly - it was more of unrestrainable, pounding lust - but whatever, he'd make Robert Fischer feel good at least.
He pushed Robert backward and essentially knocked him down onto the bed. The svelte man tensed in surprise as his back hit the mattress and Eames quickly pressed over him, lips locking over a spot on his neck and hands taking hold of his sides.
Svelte, Eames thought again. Fischer was barely shorter than himself, but his frame was tiny. Eames could tell he was someone who ran a lot, maybe too much. Always striving to be perfect, pretty dear? Eames thought.
He was thin and Eames felt like he could break him. He wouldn't, though. Not literally anyway.
He released his neck and moved up to his lips, claiming them hard. Anyone who looked at Robert tomorrow would be able to tell he'd had the fuck kissed out of him.
He sat up between Robert's legs and took in his face. Robert was looking up at him with wide eyes; he was a little freaked out by Eames' force, but very, very excited. Eames stroked the man's thighs and stomach, arousing a shiver from him.
"Please, touch me," Fischer managed.
Eames complied, taking hold and expertly stroking Robert in one hand, the other roaming every dip and bump of his chest. "You like that?"
Robert nodded and panted. "God yes."
Eames put two fingers to those pouty lips. "Suck on these."
Robert hesitated but did so, and fuck, the hesitancy was even hotter than the hot wet suction sealing around Eames' digits. The way his pink tongue lapped the forger's finger tip first before pulling him into his mouth made Eames wonder if he had the patience to get a blow job before the main attraction.
He didn't. He removed his hand from Robert's dick to bury in his hair, and when Robert's mouth opened in a little disappointed moan, Eames pulled his fingers out.
The preparation was not slow and careful. It was only enough so that they could physically do this. The first inward push of Eames' index finger, however, was slow. Because jesus fucking christ it was tight. Eames went about readying Robert enough to make that tightness bearable, but he was quite distracted by the blue eyes watching him. Why would nature ever render such color into a human being?
When that was done well enough, Eames laid over Robert again and lined up. Robert made a sound when he entered him, but Eames covered his mouth with his own to capture and possess even that.
Eames wasn't wasting time. Robert was crushing heat around him. His pace was set at fast right from the start, not giving the smaller man time to adjust. Robert cried out at the suddenness and weight of such an onslaught, then just gasped shaky breaths and clung to Eames.
Eames' hands went to Robert's hips so he could thrust into him harder, get more leverage and control. Robert let him have it, surrendering his own counter-movements and just letting the strong waves of pleasure wash over him. "Oh, god!" broke out in his voice.
Eames felt he had to tell him his thoughts.
"You're better this way, you know?" He alternated series of shallow, very quick thrusts with deep, bone-jolting ones. "Debauched, I mean. Moaning and giving up everything but letting me pound into you. The world should envy me at this moment." He kissed Robert, a wet and messy placement of lips and tongue. "They see pristine, commendable Robert Fischer Junior. They don't get to see how utterly, wantonly beautiful you are."
Robert looked at him like he didn't know what to say to that. Hadn't anyone ever told him he was fuckably gorgeous?
Eames continued pounding into him. Robert's every breath became noisy, pleading gasps, and Eames was not quiet himself, couldn't possibly have been quiet if his life depended on it. Fuck, he wanted Fischer's prostate to be bruised when he was done with him.
Robert trembled and his legs squeezed around Eames. Eames moved a hand between them and fisted Robert's leaking cock. Very soon after, the slender man shouted and his eyes closed, head thrown back as he came into the thief's deft hand. All that pressure coalescing - Robert's legs around his waist, his arms around his back, the blissfully hot inside of him - Eames came with a harsh cry of his own.
He forced out two more thrusts into Robert, then they both groaned as he slumped on top of him. He took a moment to test the reactions of Robert's nipple with his teeth, then pulled out of him. He collapsed on the bed beside him, pushing him easily onto his side like a fucked-out rag doll.
Robert looked disbelieving and stunned, mouth open as he tried to breathe and eyes unfocused. Looking at him made Eames feel confident that Robert Fischer had never been fucked so well before. He was sweaty and totally disheveled, spent. It was such a turn on.
He caressed over Robert's shoulder and down his back. "Get on your hands and knees."
Robert blinked and his eyes focused finally on Eames' face. "What?"
Eames smiled. "Lovely, we're going another round."
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