Life At My Expense. A/A/E. NC-17
Title: Life At My Expense
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's E-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for various flavors of con: noncon, dubcon and actual con.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: These are Christopher Nolan's toys. I just enjoy making them do dirty, dirty things to each other...
Spoilers/Warnings: Complete AU to the movie. For the inception_kink prompt in Round 6: Arthur and Eames are a pair of criminals who kidnap student Ariadne. Title and cut text from the Indigo Girls' "Prince Of Darkness."
Summary: Ariadne went to the Sorbonne to get away from her parents and their problems. Getting kidnapped and held for ransom hadn't been part of her plan.
Ariadne came to with a slight groan. She was lying on her side in the corner of a room that smelled like mold and damp, her hands bound together behind her back and her ankles tied tight. She could vaguely hear the voices of two men in the background, arguing over whether or not they had asked for enough money in the ransom note. She stilled, not wanting to alert them to the fact that she was awake. She shivered; it was cold wherever she was, and she had been dressed for summer.
"No, I will not fucking calm down until after we're sure nothing came up on the scanner!" one voice said, tight and angry.
"There's nothing on the bloody scanner!" came a gruff English-accented voice.
"You should have gagged her!"
"And the nosy neighbors still would've seen. There's nothing on the scanner, we've got the girl, and the ransom note was sent. They'll pay the five million, we give her back, and then we're set."
There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, though she couldn't have said why that was. Would her parents think she was worth five million? Would they try to get her back? Or would this simply be another nail in the coffin of their relationship, another thing to throw in each others' faces? She closed her eyes and let the tears fall. At least they wouldn't kill her. Well, they didn't plan to kill her. If something went wrong, she was as good as dead once they got the money.
Footsteps entered the room, and she kept her eyes squeezed tight. "Darling," the English one called out. "She's awake."
Another set of footsteps approached, though they stopped further away. "Well." She heard cloth rustling and the floor boards creaking; she assumed he was squatting down to get a closer look at her. "You're feisty, Ariadne. I usually like that." His hand came down on her arm and squeezed tightly. "In this case, don't do anything we don't tell you to do, and we're going to get along fine."
The other man knelt down beside her and stroked her hair gently. "It shouldn't be too long. No need to get to know each other. We'll come back soon enough with food and water."
She made some kind of soft, helpless sound deep in her throat but kept her eyes screwed shut. She didn't want to give them any more reason to hurt her than was necessary. Even after they left, she kept her eyes shut. There was nothing to see but empty warehouse walls, nothing to hear but an echo. It didn't surprise her to be left alone, and she figured they would only feel comfortable enough doing that if no one was around to hear her if she screamed.
Ariadne bit her lip and sobbed quietly.
***
The sound of a slamming door woke her up, which meant it was likely a meal time. The British one apparently was Eames, and he tended to call the other one darling. It clearly wasn't his name, though Ariadne didn't hear what it was. They kept her tied up during the day, and fed her soup, cereal or greasy, fried foods that were easy to get. Then she was accompanied at gunpoint to the bathroom. Once she was finished, she was tied up again and returned to the room. While sometimes she was shoved around to move faster, they didn't try beating her up or doing anything worse than glare at her. It had been two days of this, and Ariadne's nerves were frayed. They kept talking in low, agitated tones. She could only imagine that this meant her parents hadn't paid them the money.
This time, however, they were practically shouting. "The fuck, Arthur!" Eames cried, kicking something across the other room in anger. "It was supposed to be easy money. She's good for it, you said!"
Arthur shoved Eames back with a snarl of rage. The door to the room she was kept in was a crack open, and Ariadne could see that Arthur was the one with the gun, tucked neatly into the back of his pants. "They are good for it!"
"Then what the fuck?"
Ariadne froze when their heads turned in her general direction. Her parents hadn't paid the money. Her parents didn't want her back.
She didn't know which was worse: knowing that, or knowing that she was as good as dead now.
"It could be a time difference," Arthur said, voice tight. "Maybe they didn't get the message in time. We'd said forty eight hours."
"Bullshit, time difference," Eames growled. "Fine, then. How many hours is that? They have that long."
The two men left, bluster in their tones but uncertainty in their steps.
Ariadne must have fallen asleep. She was tired and sore, and vaguely aware that she was useless to the kidnappers now. If her parents weren't willing to pay them the five million, there was no reason to hang onto her. She knew their faces, and would be able to pick them out of a lineup. They had too much to lose if they left her alive. She was startled when she heard footfalls again, and looked up at Eames standing over her. She gave a small squeak of surprise and tried to shift her position backward. Tied up, her arms had fallen numb and didn't respond to her command anymore.
They're going to kill me, she thought, trying to shimmy backward away from Eames. Oh God, I'm going to die.
He simply stood there as she wriggled backward, toward the corner of the room. "What do you think I'm going to do, Ariadne?" he asked quietly.
"Are you going to kill me?" she whispered hoarsely, blinking back tears.
He hunkered down until he was at eye level with her. "Now why would I want to do that?"
"I heard you before," she said. She licked her dry, cracked lips nervously. Her mouth was dry, and it had been hours since they had brought her anything. "My parents didn't pay the money. There's no reason to keep me alive."
There was something in his gaze she didn't like. "Not exactly true, now is it?"
He left before she could ask him what he meant, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. He returned with Arthur and there was a bucket in his hand. "Time to clean up, darling girl."
Ariadne tried shifting backward, but she was already in the corner. Arthur helped prop her up against the wall as Eames settled the bucket onto the floor. It sloshed, and Ariadne could see soapy water in it. "Dish soap, unfortunately," Arthur said in an even tone. "It's all we had."
She trembled as Eames brought a washcloth up to her face and started wiping at the tear streaks on her cheeks. His touch was actually gentle, though there was something in his eyes that she didn't like. She hunched her shoulders a bit, trying to make herself seem smaller. Arthur was untying her shoes, and she jerked them slightly in response. His gaze was hard as he grasped her ankle with one hand and started pulling at the laces to her shoe with the other. "We're being nice, Ariadne," Eames said, watching her blink back tears. "We're cleaning you up a bit."
"What do you want from me?" Ariadne asked hoarsely.
Eames put the washcloth in the bucket as Arthur pulled off one shoe and removed her sock. God, just seeing her bare toes in his hand made her feel so vulnerable. Eames moved to unbutton her dirty blouse with deft fingers, ignoring the frightened noise she was making. "The way I see it," he began slowly. "We're doing you a favor." He smiled at the incredulous expression on her face. "Your parents don't give a shit about you. But we obviously do. I mean, we think you're worth five million, at least." He drew apart the sides of her blouse, pushing it along her arms. His face darkened at the sight of her mottled skin, and he touched the bruises tenderly. "We didn't mean to do this, you have to believe that."
Her heart hiccuped in her chest at the feel of his fingers against the bare skin of her arm, her blouse pushed down to rest against her tied wrists. She trembled as he brought the washcloth against the skin of her arms and she could feel Arthur's hands along her insteps. Ariadne tried not to whimper at the feel of Eames' hands along her skin, but she couldn't help it when Arthur's hands came to undo the button and zipper of her jeans. He silently drew them down her legs, then tossed them aside. He and Eames helped to roll her body partway over, enough for Eames to undo the clasp to her bra. Ariadne made a soft mewling sound in protest, but she shivered as Eames drew his thick fingers down her back. She could feel the callouses and rough skin against hers, and Arthur's hands were at the small of her back to pull down her panties. Ariadne made a choking noise as they rolled her onto her back again, and she gave the two men pleading looks to stop. Eames traced the marks on her shoulders that her bra made, his tongue caught between his lips. "You're such a delicate thing, aren't you?"
"Please don't do this," she rasped.
"You're thirsty, aren't you?" Eames asked.
"I'll get water," Arthur offered, having drawn her panties down to her ankles.
Eames' hand brushed across her throat before he let go to sit on his haunches. He took a switchblade from his pocket and Ariadne's breath caught. "Lean forward, love." Whimpering, Ariadne obeyed him, her hair falling over her face. He ran one hand along her back, and then the switchblade. He finally slid the blade beneath the edge of the ropes around her wrists, cutting through them swiftly. Once he did that, he shut the switchblade and tucked it back into his jeans pocket. He pulled at the severed ropes and her blouse, tossing them aside. He was removing her bra when Arthur returned with a glass. They both watched as she drank deeply, hands shaking and nearly spilling it all over her lap.
"Thank you," she whispered, handing the glass back.
"You see?" Eames said, his voice warm and breathy by her ear. He fingered the marks from the bra strap on her shoulder. "We're not evil. Just in a bit of a bind, you realize." Arthur came back to sit next to Eames, the bucket of water dragged between them. Arthur moved to wash her torso as Eames let his fingers slide across the curve of her jaw. Ariadne's breaths were shallow, her skin forming goose bumps as Arthur washed her. "If anything, we're the ones that care most about you now."
"No one's tried to find you," Arthur murmured, dipping the washcloth back into the bucket to rinse it. He met Ariadne's tortured gaze head on, some sympathy in his expression. "I've looked, but no one's made any mention of you going missing. No one is looking for you. No one wants you but us."
Ariadne's breath hitched in her chest and she blinked rapidly. Tears rolled down her cheeks anyway. "Love, we can be so good to you," Eames murmured, his lips along her temple and his fingers over her pulse. Arthur scrubbed at her stomach, a hand resting gently on her bare thigh. No one had ever seen her this naked, much less touched her. There was a fine tremor in her entire body from the tension to keep from screaming. "Sh... Just let it happen."
A low moan escaped her lips as Arthur slid his fingers along the inside of her thigh. She shifted backward and brought her hands up to push them away, but Eames caught her hands easily enough. He grasped her wrists, his palms rough over the raw skin. Arthur's eyes were on hers as his fingers trailed further upward. "Has anyone ever touched you here before?" he asked in even tones. "I wonder if you're a virgin, and that's why you're so skittish." She could only look at them pleadingly. Words couldn't seem to form, other than please or stop, but it didn't seem to get any farther than inside her mind. Their images swam in front of her as tears welled up. Eames had her wrists in his hands and she was frozen with fear. Arthur slid one wet finger inside of her, and she squirmed away from his touch with a choked sob. "Fuck. You're so tight." Arthur slid his finger in and out of her, his other hand tilting her hips to make it easier for him. "I can make you come, Ariadne. Have you ever come before?" he asked, his voice taking on a low, sultry note.
"Please stop," Ariadne whispered. She made a mewling noise as Arthur slid his thumb over her clit, Eames shushing her. Eames pulled her arms over her head, grasping both wrists in one hand. The other cupped a breast, his thumb grazing the chilled nipple. "Please."
"Do you mean it?" Eames asked her, making her shiver.
"It doesn't feel like you mean it," Arthur remarked in a mild tone. She dragged her startled gaze down to meet his, and he was smiling lazily at her, half leaning over her naked body. Before her eyes, he leaned further down to touch his tongue to her clit. He smirked at her ragged intake of breath. "Do you really want me to stop now?"
"N-no," she whispered, her eyes closing in shame.
"Sh..." Eames murmured against her cheek, watching Arthur bend down to press his mouth to her, his fingers still pumping in and out slowly. "It's all right, sweetheart. We've got you." He moved to her mouth, starting with a light caress of lips. At her sharp inhalation, Eames pressed his advantage and slid his tongue between her slack lips. She gasped, mouth opening wider, and Eames took the opportunity to plunder her mouth with his. He let go of her wrists to cradle her torso with that arm, his right hand still playing with one nipple. Ariadne's arms fell to his shoulders, and she clung to him for balance.
She came with a sharp cry that was swallowed up inside Eames' mouth. Arthur kept going, his tongue on her clit and his finger deep inside her, working her loose. He sucked hard on her, smiling when her hips jerked erratically. Ariadne was slick and wet, and he wanted inside her now, but didn't want to turn her off to this. She had to be handled gently, or she would be lost to them.
Eames broke his kiss to breathe, and then moved down to suckle a breast. Ariadne cried out, arching into his mouth. Her legs shifted restlessly beneath Arthur, and she made a mewling noise when she came again. Eames shifted his attention to her other breast, making her gasp and moan at the feel of it. "Let me hear you," Arthur said, rising up to his haunches. Ariadne looked at him with some difficulty, finding it hard to breathe at the sight of him appreciatively licking his glistening lips. He slid another finger inside of her, stretching her, and she whimpered softly. "Let me hear how much you like it."
"Which one of us will be your first, sweetheart?" Eames growled in her ear, making her shiver. "Which one of us gets to make you come that way?"
"I don't... I..." Ariadne gasped, hips tilting up toward Arthur's hand. She let her eyes slide shut, feeling ashamed of herself for enjoying their attentions. This was dirty and wrong on so many levels, but God, it felt good.
She heard the rasp of a zipper and slide of cloth against skin. The rhythm between her legs faltered slightly. "Why don't I do the honors?" Arthur asked, voice low and husky.
"I'll be your first in other ways, sweetheart," Eames promised, fingers still pulling at her breast.
Ariadne let out a choked cry of pain when Arthur pushed his way into her, and Eames made soothing noises, still cradling her. She opened her eyes, hardly able to breathe as he moved inside of her. His gaze was intense on her, as if she was the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. She could still feel Eames' hands on her, his mouth at her neck, but it felt like she was drowning in Arthur's eyes. He moved faster and harder, and Ariadne dug her nails into Eames' shoulder in pain. Arthur let out a strangled groan suddenly, thrusting erratically as his grip tightened on her hips. Ariadne turned her face toward Eames, burying her choked sobs in his hair. Arthur pulled out of her, and Ariadne whimpered. He and Eames exchanged places, and Ariadne watched Eames strip off his clothes hurriedly before kneeling between her spread thighs. She let out a choked sob when he slid inside her, and Arthur held her tightly. Ariadne clutched at his shoulders, not knowing why she wasn't stopping them. Arthur pressed his lips to her face, layering soft kisses over her cheeks and nose, then moving down to her jaw and neck. His touch was lighter than Eames' had been, his hands not as calloused and rough. He moved to kiss her, his mouth covering hers completely. His kiss was consuming, his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her as if he could slide inside her skin.
Eames came with a grunt, then slid out of her. He moved to the others side of her, nuzzling her neck gently. "Are you all right, Ariadne?"
The quiet question unnerved her. "I don't know."
"How about a bath?" Arthur asked, pulling back from where he had been kissing her neck.
Ariadne simply blinked at him, lips parted. How was that supposed to help?
"Sounds like a lovely idea, that," Eames said, swiftly picking Ariadne up in his arms. She let out a small cry of surprise and clung to Eames to keep from falling. "I've got you, love. We'll get this all sorted, and it'll be all right."
She wanted to believe that, but couldn't see how. Arthur ran the tub, an ancient porcelain thing with scratches all along its sides. At least it was clean, and Eames gently lowered her into the warm water. She felt sticky and stretched out and sore, and had felt a frisson of alarm at the blood streaked on her thighs. Both of the men gave her a few minutes alone as they cleaned themselves up, and Ariadne covered her face in her hands. What had she just done? What had she allowed to happen? It had all gone out of control so quickly, and she felt empty inside.
It all circled back to the fact that her parents hadn't bothered to get the money together. Whether it was five million dollars or euros, or whatever currency Arthur and Eames had asked for, her parents had the money. They were more consumed with their divorce than in seeing that she was safe. They were supposed to care about her, goddammit, not about which of them won the stupid divorce.
She didn't realize she was crying until Arthur came back inside the bathroom. He was still naked, and he knelt beside the tub to run his fingers along her bent back after pushing her hair aside. "What's wrong, Ariadne?" he asked, voice soft and oddly intimate.
She turned to him, miserable. "Why didn't they want me back?" she asked, sniffling. "Do they hate each other so much that they hate me, too?"
"Oh, Ariadne," Arthur murmured, cupping her face in his hands. He leaned forward and kissed her softly. "We like you. You can stay with us."
"You don't even know me."
"True," he allowed. "But adversity shows off your true colors, doesn't it? This right now is the real you."
"Then I'm a coward and afraid all the time."
Arthur shook his head and let his hands fall to her shoulders. "You're beautiful, Ariadne. You're a lovely woman. I'm sorry we met this way." He gave her a crooked smile. "But we can start over." He leaned forward and kissed her lips gently. "Come on, then. It's late. Let's go to bed."
Blushing fiercely, Ariadne averted her eyes. "I can't."
Arthur pulled the stopper on the tub and lifted her up. "It's going to be all right, Ariadne. Really, it is. I promise."
Eames came in, still naked as well, and helped to towel her off. They pulled her into the portion of the warehouse that seemed to have been set aside as a bedroom, and Arthur moved to kiss her neck from behind as Eames kissed her mouth. Ariadne's arms were caught between her body and Eames', and she shivered as Arthur's hands moved down to grasp her hips firmly. "Let us show you how beautiful you are," Arthur whispered against her neck.
Eames buried his fingers between her thighs and Ariadne gasped against his mouth. "So wet here," Eames growled, moving to feather light kisses over her face. He moved his hand in careful strokes as Arthur moved to take her breasts in his hands. Eames slid a finger inside her and brushed his thumb against her clit. "Let's get you wetter."
"I can't do this," Ariadne whimpered, pushing against his chest weakly.
"Let us show you how wonderful you are," Arthur murmured against her ear.
"You belong with us, Ariadne," Eames said, pupils blown wide with lust. He gave her a lopsided grin when she made a soft mewling noise. "Just feel how good we can be."
Somehow, she was maneuvered on the bed between them, both Eames and Arthur reaching between her thighs to stroke at her clit or slide a finger inside. She was kneeling between them, feeling lost and empty. It was easier not to think, not to grieve being left behind by her parents. It was easier simply to feel them working her body, to welcome the intrusion of their hands. She made a soft confused noise as Arthur pushed a slicked finger into her rear, and he nipped at her neck playfully. "Trust me, Ariadne," he crooned. "Just trust me."
Ariadne relaxed into his touch as Eames bent his head and shifted position to take a breast into his mouth. He had his fingers buried deep inside her slick wetness, his tongue laving her pebbled nipple. Arthur worked her open from behind, his fingers sliding into her when he needed more lubricant. She didn't know how he deemed her ready, but he nodded at Eames, who stretched out beneath them all. Arthur pushed her onto all fours, straddling Eames. Arthur slid into her from behind, making her keen in pleasure. After a handful of thrusts, he backed out and let Eames guide himself into her. Ariadne whimpered softly at the stretched out feel of him inside of her, then felt Arthur prodding at her from behind. He sank in slowly, carefully, and they began to move in a slow rhythm to get her adjusted to the feel of them both inside of her.
"Easy," Arthur cautioned as Ariadne squirmed between them, her breath coming in short pants. "Let's savor this."
His voice shot straight down her spine, and she shivered between them. Eames groaned as he rolled his hips beneath her, and Ariadne made a soft cry of pleasure in response. "That's it," he growled, his hands tight on her hips. "Fuck, you feel so good."
Arthur leaned down and then pulled her into a more upright position, one hand wrapped tight around her torso to keep her balance. His breath was warm against the back of her neck, one breast cupped in his hand. "Did you know you could feel this good?" he rasped in her ear, sliding into her with sure strokes. She shook her head, unable to speak, her hands clenched on Eames' thighs. "It only gets better, Ariadne," he whispered, her name rolling off his tongue like a caress. She shivered and came, and Eames grunted as her body tightened around him. "Stay with us," he crooned in her ear, moving faster.
Ariadne made a soft mewling sound, her head lolling back slightly against his shoulder. She felt completely limp and wrung out, too exhausted to process what they were saying or doing. Eames groaned, twitching inside of her as he came, and Arthur's grip on her body tightened. "We'll love you," he whispered, moving faster and harder. "We'll never leave you."
It was almost a relief when he came, allowing her to collapse down on top of Eames. They were a tangled, sticky mess, and Ariadne could do nothing more than lay between them and settle down to sleep. She didn't know how long she slept, but she came awake all at once some time later. Chilled, she found a button down shirt lying on the floor that seemed clean enough to put on.
"You all right, sweetheart?" Eames asked, opening his eyes sleepily. Arthur was still lying in bed, sprawled on his stomach and snoring softly.
"Um... Bathroom," Ariadne said, gesturing behind her vaguely.
"Second door on the left, remember?" he replied with a yawn and stretch.
Ariadne sat on the toilet even after she finished using it. She carded her fingers through her tangled hair, her stomach in knots. What the fuck was she doing? She should run. She should look for a way out, even if she was dressed in a shirt that nearly hung to her knees.
But where would she go? Her apartment? What use was there to that life she had led? It felt meaningless now. In the span of a few days, her entire life had turned upside down, and nothing that she had thought was important felt that way anymore.
She sniffled and wiped her eyes. No use crying about it now. She would have to figure out something. Arthur and Eames seemed nice enough, and hadn't hurt her as she had been afraid they would have. If anything, having her kidnappers feel sorry for her being so alone made her feel that much more terrible. She was pathetic, wasn't she? Isn't that why her parents didn't want her back?
Eames was lounging against the wall when she left the bathroom. He smiled indulgently when she startled. "Sorry, I'm a light sleeper."
"Arthur's still asleep, then?" Eames nodded. "Aren't you worried? That I'll say something or someone will find you?"
"Sweetheart, if there was a chance of that happening, do you think he'd sleep so soundly?"
"Oh." The simple confidence in the statement cut her deeply.
"You seem upset."
"I'm not upset," she responded, almost automatically. She had said it dozens of times during her parents' divorce, and it was like second nature to her now.
He touched her face gently. "Liar."
Flushing, she looked down. Only, he was still naked, and that made her flush even deeper and cast her eyes elsewhere. Eames chuckled and pulled her into a tight embrace. "What's this for?" she asked, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.
"Oh, sweetheart. It's all right to be upset." He stroked her hair gently. "Things didn't turn out the way you'd hoped."
Ariadne blinked back the tears that were starting to burn behind her eyes. "I'll be okay."
"Of course you will," he said with a smile in his voice. He picked her up in his arms, startling her. He grinned when she wrapped her arms and legs around him in a panic. "You've got us."
"But..."
Eames shifted her position so that their mouths could meet in a kiss. He walked her partway back to the bed, but ultimately pressed her up against the wall. She gasped against his mouth, especially when he pressed into her intently. "No buts," he said against her mouth, shifting his position on her to tug the shirt upward. He pressed his fingers against her, sliding them around her folds until she gasped at the contact. "You've got us. D'you think we'd let you go back to that?"
The way he spoke made it sound terrible and lonely and awful, and Ariadne wanted to weep at the sound of it. He pushed his fingers inside of her, and all thoughts of her life at the Sorbonne flew out of her head. She let her eyes fall shut as she moaned, hips canting toward his hand for more. A whimper escaped her as his thumb brushed across her clit, and he kissed her roughly. Ariadne held onto his shoulders and locked her ankles around his waist when he slid his length inside of her. Eames moved at an unhurried pace at first, lazily nipping at her lower lip and making slow, languorous thrusts. It gradually quickened until he was slamming himself into her and she thought she could feel stars from the force of her orgasm.
He carefully let her down to her feet after a few moments to catch their breath. Ariadne froze as she straightened out the shirt she was wearing. Arthur was awake, staring at them with undisguised lust in his eyes. "My shirt looks good on you," he rasped.
"We woke the sleepyhead," Eames said, a smile in his voice as he ran a hand down her back. "Go on, give him a kiss."
"But..."
"Come here," Arthur said, voice still rough with sleep. He reached out for her, and Ariadne found herself walking toward him anyway. He pulled her down on top of him as he kissed her deeply. His hands were everywhere, tugging the shirt up enough that he could slide his erection between her sticky thighs. He let out a satisfied groan as he slid home, her body slick and warm around him. He rolled over on top of her, mouth still attached to hers. He kissed her lazily, tongue stroking hers in the same slow rhythm that he was using to rock against her hips. It was a kiss to drown in, a kiss that said she was the most beautiful woman on earth and he couldn't believe she was in bed with him. It was a kiss that could go on forever, and Ariadne missed it when it ended. Arthur rolled over onto his back, propping her up so that he could play with her breasts and watch her expression as she moved against him.
It was a surprise when she came, collapsing down on top of Arthur. A few shallow thrusts were enough to have him follow her, and he held onto her tightly.
This time, Ariadne slept and didn't wake until the afternoon.
When she did, all tangled up in the sheets on the bed, Eames was talking on the phone just out of earshot and she didn't see Arthur. For a fleeting moment there was a sense of panic, that they were leaving her behind and she would be abandoned yet again. Eames half turned, rolling his eyes at whoever was on the other end of the line and saw Ariadne shoot upright in bed. He smiled at her with a half wave of his free hand, and went back to saying whatever it was that he was saying. The panic ebbed inside Ariadne's chest, and she started to feel like an idiot. She cleaned herself up in the bathroom and made her way over to Eames' side.
"Arthur's getting lunch," he said after hanging up his cell phone. "There's some tactical things to take care of, one of which is getting the fuck out of Paris."
Ariadne couldn't breathe. "You are?"
"We are, sweetheart. All three of us." He flashed her an easy grin and pulled her close. "Oh, we're not done with you yet." He kissed the tip of her nose and spun her around. "Here, let me get at that," he said, beginning to finger comb her hair and pick apart the snarls. "I have a comb about somewhere, but I like this better, don't you?"
She smiled at the feel of his fingers on her scalp. "Mmm. Yes, actually."
"Honey, I'm home!" Arthur shouted up the stairs. There was a banging sound, and he came up the stairs looking like a bike messenger. He had a backpack on, a paper bag from a local patisserie and a small carry on suitcase. He grinned at the sight of Eames picking through Ariadne's hair. "Ah. My two favorite people in all the world."
Ariadne's stomach did a nervous flutter at the sight of his grin, and her smile at him was unsure. "Hi."
Arthur tucked the bags under the table in the kitchenette and put the paper bag on the table. He quickly divvied up the food and dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Sleep well?"
"Yes," she murmured, feeling as though it was all so surreal.
They ate, and it felt almost comfortable to be sitting with them and having sandwiches and coffee. It felt natural, as if she had done this every day for years.
"I have good news, and I have bad news," Arthur said after a moment, looking at Ariadne. "Which do you want first?"
"Bad news," she replied automatically.
"Your parents finally came through with the money."
It hit her like a punch in the gut, and the breath left her. The sandwich suddenly felt leaden in her stomach. "They did," she murmured, staring at him. "This is bad news?"
"Depends on you, doesn't it?" Arthur asked in careful tones. "Depends if you want to stay with us." He took in her pale face, the way her hands shook on the table. "I want you to stay, Ariadne. I know Eames feels the same way."
"I... I don't..."
"They were two days overdue," Arthur told her in a soft and careful voice. "If we weren't who we are..."
He didn't have to continue that statement. Anyone else might have killed her.
"Sweetheart, breathe," Eames said, rubbing her back in gentle circles. "Fuck, Arthur, did you have to say that?"
"It's okay," Ariadne wheezed, shaking her head.
"It's not okay," Arthur said, coming to stand in front of her. He took her face in his hands. "Ariadne, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay? You don't have to go back to how things were. You're missing to them, you don't have to deal with their bullshit anymore."
She was shaking her head, pulling his hands away from her face. "Arthur, I..."
"They ignored you, Ariadne." He glowered at Eames, who must have made a face at him. "Don't look at me like that, Eames. You know it's true. Either of us, if someone close had a problem like this, we'd drop anything to be there, would do anything to help. I don't understand why they can't do that for you."
Ariadne dissolved into tears, and Arthur gathered her up in his arms. Eames continued to rub at her back as Arthur made shushing noises. "This is the bad news. I'm sorry, Ariadne, I'm so sorry." He kissed her forehead. "Stay with us, Ariadne. We have five million euros now."
"Is that the good news?" she asked in a choked voice.
"Sort of. I mean, we can go anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world. We can travel together. Have you done a lot of traveling?" She shook her head. "There are so many beautiful cities. I'd love you to see them. Prague, Venice, Rome, Budapest, Amsterdam... Ariadne, you'd love it there. Those places are beautiful."
"I've never been to any of those places," she whispered, pulling back to rub at her eyes.
Eames stood and came around to hold her on the other side. "C'mon, sweetheart. Lots of firsts with us, then. We'll take you around the world, show you a good time. You don't have to think on this. It'll be great."
"I can make all the arrangements, if you like," Arthur said. "Let's go to Amsterdam. I haven't been there in a while. It's lovely, so much to see and do. You like museums and art and stuff, right?" Ariadne nodded, sniffling. "Then we'll start there. We can take the train, go to Amsterdam and just see the world. Live for a while, until you figure out what you want to do."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you don't," Arthur replied with a shrug.
"We haven't. Not necessarily a bad thing, yeah?" Eames asked, licking the outer shell of her ear. "We found you."
She shivered in their arms. "I don't know what to say," she said finally, helplessly.
"Say yes, love," Eames crooned in her ear, sliding a hand across her abdomen. "The three of us in beautiful cities, making love together."
Arthur kissed her temple, his hand on the rise of her breasts. "We'll always be with you, Ariadne. We'd never leave you, never."
"Yes." Ariadne closed her eyes, not sure what the hell she was doing. But she could feel their smiles in their kisses against her face. "I should wash up."
"Go shower. We'll get everything ready."
Eames waited until she was in the shower, water running. He looked over at Arthur. "Smooth, Arthur. I didn't think it would work."
Arthur snorted at him and put the carry on bag onto the table so he could count the money. "I told you not to doubt me. I knew we'd have both her and the money."
"Touch and go for a while there," he said with a shrug. "Can't blame me for doubting, can you? Got the passports?"
"Yeah. Jean-Pierre's paid in full now. I gave him the keys to her apartment the day we took her. He tossed the place and emptied her accounts. It paid for everything we owe him as well as the new passports. We can visit Thierry in Amsterdam to get new ones and toss these if he decides to follow us." Arthur took a sip of his coffee as Eames locked the carry on bag again. "There was a little extra to cover for Gaston's loss."
Eames lofted an eyebrow at Arthur. "Do I want to know?"
"I told him not to look in the bag and just hold onto it for me. Bastard thought he could have half."
"Ah, well. I was wondering what was taking you so long this morning. Teaches him not to be greedy."
"Jean-Pierre won't miss him for a few days. We'll be in Amsterdam by then."
Eames smiled as he looked over at the bathroom. "She's delicious, Arthur. I'm going to enjoy corrupting her."
Arthur's smile was almost chilling. "We both will, Eames. And she's going to enjoy every second of it."
He laughed. "This is the best idea you've ever had, darling. Glad I could help with the conditioning bit. She might've left you despite all your careful planning otherwise." He shrugged off his shirt. "Let's join her."
Arthur smirked at Eames. "Now who's greedy? Good thing I like you and I'm willing to share." He shook his head at Eames' laughter and the two men headed into the bathroom to join Ariadne. Traveling around Europe had never seemed like so much fun before. Arthur was looking forward to it.
The End
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's E-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for various flavors of con: noncon, dubcon and actual con.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: These are Christopher Nolan's toys. I just enjoy making them do dirty, dirty things to each other...
Spoilers/Warnings: Complete AU to the movie. For the inception_kink prompt in Round 6: Arthur and Eames are a pair of criminals who kidnap student Ariadne. Title and cut text from the Indigo Girls' "Prince Of Darkness."
Summary: Ariadne went to the Sorbonne to get away from her parents and their problems. Getting kidnapped and held for ransom hadn't been part of her plan.
Ariadne came to with a slight groan. She was lying on her side in the corner of a room that smelled like mold and damp, her hands bound together behind her back and her ankles tied tight. She could vaguely hear the voices of two men in the background, arguing over whether or not they had asked for enough money in the ransom note. She stilled, not wanting to alert them to the fact that she was awake. She shivered; it was cold wherever she was, and she had been dressed for summer.
"No, I will not fucking calm down until after we're sure nothing came up on the scanner!" one voice said, tight and angry.
"There's nothing on the bloody scanner!" came a gruff English-accented voice.
"You should have gagged her!"
"And the nosy neighbors still would've seen. There's nothing on the scanner, we've got the girl, and the ransom note was sent. They'll pay the five million, we give her back, and then we're set."
There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, though she couldn't have said why that was. Would her parents think she was worth five million? Would they try to get her back? Or would this simply be another nail in the coffin of their relationship, another thing to throw in each others' faces? She closed her eyes and let the tears fall. At least they wouldn't kill her. Well, they didn't plan to kill her. If something went wrong, she was as good as dead once they got the money.
Footsteps entered the room, and she kept her eyes squeezed tight. "Darling," the English one called out. "She's awake."
Another set of footsteps approached, though they stopped further away. "Well." She heard cloth rustling and the floor boards creaking; she assumed he was squatting down to get a closer look at her. "You're feisty, Ariadne. I usually like that." His hand came down on her arm and squeezed tightly. "In this case, don't do anything we don't tell you to do, and we're going to get along fine."
The other man knelt down beside her and stroked her hair gently. "It shouldn't be too long. No need to get to know each other. We'll come back soon enough with food and water."
She made some kind of soft, helpless sound deep in her throat but kept her eyes screwed shut. She didn't want to give them any more reason to hurt her than was necessary. Even after they left, she kept her eyes shut. There was nothing to see but empty warehouse walls, nothing to hear but an echo. It didn't surprise her to be left alone, and she figured they would only feel comfortable enough doing that if no one was around to hear her if she screamed.
Ariadne bit her lip and sobbed quietly.
***
The sound of a slamming door woke her up, which meant it was likely a meal time. The British one apparently was Eames, and he tended to call the other one darling. It clearly wasn't his name, though Ariadne didn't hear what it was. They kept her tied up during the day, and fed her soup, cereal or greasy, fried foods that were easy to get. Then she was accompanied at gunpoint to the bathroom. Once she was finished, she was tied up again and returned to the room. While sometimes she was shoved around to move faster, they didn't try beating her up or doing anything worse than glare at her. It had been two days of this, and Ariadne's nerves were frayed. They kept talking in low, agitated tones. She could only imagine that this meant her parents hadn't paid them the money.
This time, however, they were practically shouting. "The fuck, Arthur!" Eames cried, kicking something across the other room in anger. "It was supposed to be easy money. She's good for it, you said!"
Arthur shoved Eames back with a snarl of rage. The door to the room she was kept in was a crack open, and Ariadne could see that Arthur was the one with the gun, tucked neatly into the back of his pants. "They are good for it!"
"Then what the fuck?"
Ariadne froze when their heads turned in her general direction. Her parents hadn't paid the money. Her parents didn't want her back.
She didn't know which was worse: knowing that, or knowing that she was as good as dead now.
"It could be a time difference," Arthur said, voice tight. "Maybe they didn't get the message in time. We'd said forty eight hours."
"Bullshit, time difference," Eames growled. "Fine, then. How many hours is that? They have that long."
The two men left, bluster in their tones but uncertainty in their steps.
Ariadne must have fallen asleep. She was tired and sore, and vaguely aware that she was useless to the kidnappers now. If her parents weren't willing to pay them the five million, there was no reason to hang onto her. She knew their faces, and would be able to pick them out of a lineup. They had too much to lose if they left her alive. She was startled when she heard footfalls again, and looked up at Eames standing over her. She gave a small squeak of surprise and tried to shift her position backward. Tied up, her arms had fallen numb and didn't respond to her command anymore.
They're going to kill me, she thought, trying to shimmy backward away from Eames. Oh God, I'm going to die.
He simply stood there as she wriggled backward, toward the corner of the room. "What do you think I'm going to do, Ariadne?" he asked quietly.
"Are you going to kill me?" she whispered hoarsely, blinking back tears.
He hunkered down until he was at eye level with her. "Now why would I want to do that?"
"I heard you before," she said. She licked her dry, cracked lips nervously. Her mouth was dry, and it had been hours since they had brought her anything. "My parents didn't pay the money. There's no reason to keep me alive."
There was something in his gaze she didn't like. "Not exactly true, now is it?"
He left before she could ask him what he meant, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. He returned with Arthur and there was a bucket in his hand. "Time to clean up, darling girl."
Ariadne tried shifting backward, but she was already in the corner. Arthur helped prop her up against the wall as Eames settled the bucket onto the floor. It sloshed, and Ariadne could see soapy water in it. "Dish soap, unfortunately," Arthur said in an even tone. "It's all we had."
She trembled as Eames brought a washcloth up to her face and started wiping at the tear streaks on her cheeks. His touch was actually gentle, though there was something in his eyes that she didn't like. She hunched her shoulders a bit, trying to make herself seem smaller. Arthur was untying her shoes, and she jerked them slightly in response. His gaze was hard as he grasped her ankle with one hand and started pulling at the laces to her shoe with the other. "We're being nice, Ariadne," Eames said, watching her blink back tears. "We're cleaning you up a bit."
"What do you want from me?" Ariadne asked hoarsely.
Eames put the washcloth in the bucket as Arthur pulled off one shoe and removed her sock. God, just seeing her bare toes in his hand made her feel so vulnerable. Eames moved to unbutton her dirty blouse with deft fingers, ignoring the frightened noise she was making. "The way I see it," he began slowly. "We're doing you a favor." He smiled at the incredulous expression on her face. "Your parents don't give a shit about you. But we obviously do. I mean, we think you're worth five million, at least." He drew apart the sides of her blouse, pushing it along her arms. His face darkened at the sight of her mottled skin, and he touched the bruises tenderly. "We didn't mean to do this, you have to believe that."
Her heart hiccuped in her chest at the feel of his fingers against the bare skin of her arm, her blouse pushed down to rest against her tied wrists. She trembled as he brought the washcloth against the skin of her arms and she could feel Arthur's hands along her insteps. Ariadne tried not to whimper at the feel of Eames' hands along her skin, but she couldn't help it when Arthur's hands came to undo the button and zipper of her jeans. He silently drew them down her legs, then tossed them aside. He and Eames helped to roll her body partway over, enough for Eames to undo the clasp to her bra. Ariadne made a soft mewling sound in protest, but she shivered as Eames drew his thick fingers down her back. She could feel the callouses and rough skin against hers, and Arthur's hands were at the small of her back to pull down her panties. Ariadne made a choking noise as they rolled her onto her back again, and she gave the two men pleading looks to stop. Eames traced the marks on her shoulders that her bra made, his tongue caught between his lips. "You're such a delicate thing, aren't you?"
"Please don't do this," she rasped.
"You're thirsty, aren't you?" Eames asked.
"I'll get water," Arthur offered, having drawn her panties down to her ankles.
Eames' hand brushed across her throat before he let go to sit on his haunches. He took a switchblade from his pocket and Ariadne's breath caught. "Lean forward, love." Whimpering, Ariadne obeyed him, her hair falling over her face. He ran one hand along her back, and then the switchblade. He finally slid the blade beneath the edge of the ropes around her wrists, cutting through them swiftly. Once he did that, he shut the switchblade and tucked it back into his jeans pocket. He pulled at the severed ropes and her blouse, tossing them aside. He was removing her bra when Arthur returned with a glass. They both watched as she drank deeply, hands shaking and nearly spilling it all over her lap.
"Thank you," she whispered, handing the glass back.
"You see?" Eames said, his voice warm and breathy by her ear. He fingered the marks from the bra strap on her shoulder. "We're not evil. Just in a bit of a bind, you realize." Arthur came back to sit next to Eames, the bucket of water dragged between them. Arthur moved to wash her torso as Eames let his fingers slide across the curve of her jaw. Ariadne's breaths were shallow, her skin forming goose bumps as Arthur washed her. "If anything, we're the ones that care most about you now."
"No one's tried to find you," Arthur murmured, dipping the washcloth back into the bucket to rinse it. He met Ariadne's tortured gaze head on, some sympathy in his expression. "I've looked, but no one's made any mention of you going missing. No one is looking for you. No one wants you but us."
Ariadne's breath hitched in her chest and she blinked rapidly. Tears rolled down her cheeks anyway. "Love, we can be so good to you," Eames murmured, his lips along her temple and his fingers over her pulse. Arthur scrubbed at her stomach, a hand resting gently on her bare thigh. No one had ever seen her this naked, much less touched her. There was a fine tremor in her entire body from the tension to keep from screaming. "Sh... Just let it happen."
A low moan escaped her lips as Arthur slid his fingers along the inside of her thigh. She shifted backward and brought her hands up to push them away, but Eames caught her hands easily enough. He grasped her wrists, his palms rough over the raw skin. Arthur's eyes were on hers as his fingers trailed further upward. "Has anyone ever touched you here before?" he asked in even tones. "I wonder if you're a virgin, and that's why you're so skittish." She could only look at them pleadingly. Words couldn't seem to form, other than please or stop, but it didn't seem to get any farther than inside her mind. Their images swam in front of her as tears welled up. Eames had her wrists in his hands and she was frozen with fear. Arthur slid one wet finger inside of her, and she squirmed away from his touch with a choked sob. "Fuck. You're so tight." Arthur slid his finger in and out of her, his other hand tilting her hips to make it easier for him. "I can make you come, Ariadne. Have you ever come before?" he asked, his voice taking on a low, sultry note.
"Please stop," Ariadne whispered. She made a mewling noise as Arthur slid his thumb over her clit, Eames shushing her. Eames pulled her arms over her head, grasping both wrists in one hand. The other cupped a breast, his thumb grazing the chilled nipple. "Please."
"Do you mean it?" Eames asked her, making her shiver.
"It doesn't feel like you mean it," Arthur remarked in a mild tone. She dragged her startled gaze down to meet his, and he was smiling lazily at her, half leaning over her naked body. Before her eyes, he leaned further down to touch his tongue to her clit. He smirked at her ragged intake of breath. "Do you really want me to stop now?"
"N-no," she whispered, her eyes closing in shame.
"Sh..." Eames murmured against her cheek, watching Arthur bend down to press his mouth to her, his fingers still pumping in and out slowly. "It's all right, sweetheart. We've got you." He moved to her mouth, starting with a light caress of lips. At her sharp inhalation, Eames pressed his advantage and slid his tongue between her slack lips. She gasped, mouth opening wider, and Eames took the opportunity to plunder her mouth with his. He let go of her wrists to cradle her torso with that arm, his right hand still playing with one nipple. Ariadne's arms fell to his shoulders, and she clung to him for balance.
She came with a sharp cry that was swallowed up inside Eames' mouth. Arthur kept going, his tongue on her clit and his finger deep inside her, working her loose. He sucked hard on her, smiling when her hips jerked erratically. Ariadne was slick and wet, and he wanted inside her now, but didn't want to turn her off to this. She had to be handled gently, or she would be lost to them.
Eames broke his kiss to breathe, and then moved down to suckle a breast. Ariadne cried out, arching into his mouth. Her legs shifted restlessly beneath Arthur, and she made a mewling noise when she came again. Eames shifted his attention to her other breast, making her gasp and moan at the feel of it. "Let me hear you," Arthur said, rising up to his haunches. Ariadne looked at him with some difficulty, finding it hard to breathe at the sight of him appreciatively licking his glistening lips. He slid another finger inside of her, stretching her, and she whimpered softly. "Let me hear how much you like it."
"Which one of us will be your first, sweetheart?" Eames growled in her ear, making her shiver. "Which one of us gets to make you come that way?"
"I don't... I..." Ariadne gasped, hips tilting up toward Arthur's hand. She let her eyes slide shut, feeling ashamed of herself for enjoying their attentions. This was dirty and wrong on so many levels, but God, it felt good.
She heard the rasp of a zipper and slide of cloth against skin. The rhythm between her legs faltered slightly. "Why don't I do the honors?" Arthur asked, voice low and husky.
"I'll be your first in other ways, sweetheart," Eames promised, fingers still pulling at her breast.
Ariadne let out a choked cry of pain when Arthur pushed his way into her, and Eames made soothing noises, still cradling her. She opened her eyes, hardly able to breathe as he moved inside of her. His gaze was intense on her, as if she was the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. She could still feel Eames' hands on her, his mouth at her neck, but it felt like she was drowning in Arthur's eyes. He moved faster and harder, and Ariadne dug her nails into Eames' shoulder in pain. Arthur let out a strangled groan suddenly, thrusting erratically as his grip tightened on her hips. Ariadne turned her face toward Eames, burying her choked sobs in his hair. Arthur pulled out of her, and Ariadne whimpered. He and Eames exchanged places, and Ariadne watched Eames strip off his clothes hurriedly before kneeling between her spread thighs. She let out a choked sob when he slid inside her, and Arthur held her tightly. Ariadne clutched at his shoulders, not knowing why she wasn't stopping them. Arthur pressed his lips to her face, layering soft kisses over her cheeks and nose, then moving down to her jaw and neck. His touch was lighter than Eames' had been, his hands not as calloused and rough. He moved to kiss her, his mouth covering hers completely. His kiss was consuming, his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her as if he could slide inside her skin.
Eames came with a grunt, then slid out of her. He moved to the others side of her, nuzzling her neck gently. "Are you all right, Ariadne?"
The quiet question unnerved her. "I don't know."
"How about a bath?" Arthur asked, pulling back from where he had been kissing her neck.
Ariadne simply blinked at him, lips parted. How was that supposed to help?
"Sounds like a lovely idea, that," Eames said, swiftly picking Ariadne up in his arms. She let out a small cry of surprise and clung to Eames to keep from falling. "I've got you, love. We'll get this all sorted, and it'll be all right."
She wanted to believe that, but couldn't see how. Arthur ran the tub, an ancient porcelain thing with scratches all along its sides. At least it was clean, and Eames gently lowered her into the warm water. She felt sticky and stretched out and sore, and had felt a frisson of alarm at the blood streaked on her thighs. Both of the men gave her a few minutes alone as they cleaned themselves up, and Ariadne covered her face in her hands. What had she just done? What had she allowed to happen? It had all gone out of control so quickly, and she felt empty inside.
It all circled back to the fact that her parents hadn't bothered to get the money together. Whether it was five million dollars or euros, or whatever currency Arthur and Eames had asked for, her parents had the money. They were more consumed with their divorce than in seeing that she was safe. They were supposed to care about her, goddammit, not about which of them won the stupid divorce.
She didn't realize she was crying until Arthur came back inside the bathroom. He was still naked, and he knelt beside the tub to run his fingers along her bent back after pushing her hair aside. "What's wrong, Ariadne?" he asked, voice soft and oddly intimate.
She turned to him, miserable. "Why didn't they want me back?" she asked, sniffling. "Do they hate each other so much that they hate me, too?"
"Oh, Ariadne," Arthur murmured, cupping her face in his hands. He leaned forward and kissed her softly. "We like you. You can stay with us."
"You don't even know me."
"True," he allowed. "But adversity shows off your true colors, doesn't it? This right now is the real you."
"Then I'm a coward and afraid all the time."
Arthur shook his head and let his hands fall to her shoulders. "You're beautiful, Ariadne. You're a lovely woman. I'm sorry we met this way." He gave her a crooked smile. "But we can start over." He leaned forward and kissed her lips gently. "Come on, then. It's late. Let's go to bed."
Blushing fiercely, Ariadne averted her eyes. "I can't."
Arthur pulled the stopper on the tub and lifted her up. "It's going to be all right, Ariadne. Really, it is. I promise."
Eames came in, still naked as well, and helped to towel her off. They pulled her into the portion of the warehouse that seemed to have been set aside as a bedroom, and Arthur moved to kiss her neck from behind as Eames kissed her mouth. Ariadne's arms were caught between her body and Eames', and she shivered as Arthur's hands moved down to grasp her hips firmly. "Let us show you how beautiful you are," Arthur whispered against her neck.
Eames buried his fingers between her thighs and Ariadne gasped against his mouth. "So wet here," Eames growled, moving to feather light kisses over her face. He moved his hand in careful strokes as Arthur moved to take her breasts in his hands. Eames slid a finger inside her and brushed his thumb against her clit. "Let's get you wetter."
"I can't do this," Ariadne whimpered, pushing against his chest weakly.
"Let us show you how wonderful you are," Arthur murmured against her ear.
"You belong with us, Ariadne," Eames said, pupils blown wide with lust. He gave her a lopsided grin when she made a soft mewling noise. "Just feel how good we can be."
Somehow, she was maneuvered on the bed between them, both Eames and Arthur reaching between her thighs to stroke at her clit or slide a finger inside. She was kneeling between them, feeling lost and empty. It was easier not to think, not to grieve being left behind by her parents. It was easier simply to feel them working her body, to welcome the intrusion of their hands. She made a soft confused noise as Arthur pushed a slicked finger into her rear, and he nipped at her neck playfully. "Trust me, Ariadne," he crooned. "Just trust me."
Ariadne relaxed into his touch as Eames bent his head and shifted position to take a breast into his mouth. He had his fingers buried deep inside her slick wetness, his tongue laving her pebbled nipple. Arthur worked her open from behind, his fingers sliding into her when he needed more lubricant. She didn't know how he deemed her ready, but he nodded at Eames, who stretched out beneath them all. Arthur pushed her onto all fours, straddling Eames. Arthur slid into her from behind, making her keen in pleasure. After a handful of thrusts, he backed out and let Eames guide himself into her. Ariadne whimpered softly at the stretched out feel of him inside of her, then felt Arthur prodding at her from behind. He sank in slowly, carefully, and they began to move in a slow rhythm to get her adjusted to the feel of them both inside of her.
"Easy," Arthur cautioned as Ariadne squirmed between them, her breath coming in short pants. "Let's savor this."
His voice shot straight down her spine, and she shivered between them. Eames groaned as he rolled his hips beneath her, and Ariadne made a soft cry of pleasure in response. "That's it," he growled, his hands tight on her hips. "Fuck, you feel so good."
Arthur leaned down and then pulled her into a more upright position, one hand wrapped tight around her torso to keep her balance. His breath was warm against the back of her neck, one breast cupped in his hand. "Did you know you could feel this good?" he rasped in her ear, sliding into her with sure strokes. She shook her head, unable to speak, her hands clenched on Eames' thighs. "It only gets better, Ariadne," he whispered, her name rolling off his tongue like a caress. She shivered and came, and Eames grunted as her body tightened around him. "Stay with us," he crooned in her ear, moving faster.
Ariadne made a soft mewling sound, her head lolling back slightly against his shoulder. She felt completely limp and wrung out, too exhausted to process what they were saying or doing. Eames groaned, twitching inside of her as he came, and Arthur's grip on her body tightened. "We'll love you," he whispered, moving faster and harder. "We'll never leave you."
It was almost a relief when he came, allowing her to collapse down on top of Eames. They were a tangled, sticky mess, and Ariadne could do nothing more than lay between them and settle down to sleep. She didn't know how long she slept, but she came awake all at once some time later. Chilled, she found a button down shirt lying on the floor that seemed clean enough to put on.
"You all right, sweetheart?" Eames asked, opening his eyes sleepily. Arthur was still lying in bed, sprawled on his stomach and snoring softly.
"Um... Bathroom," Ariadne said, gesturing behind her vaguely.
"Second door on the left, remember?" he replied with a yawn and stretch.
Ariadne sat on the toilet even after she finished using it. She carded her fingers through her tangled hair, her stomach in knots. What the fuck was she doing? She should run. She should look for a way out, even if she was dressed in a shirt that nearly hung to her knees.
But where would she go? Her apartment? What use was there to that life she had led? It felt meaningless now. In the span of a few days, her entire life had turned upside down, and nothing that she had thought was important felt that way anymore.
She sniffled and wiped her eyes. No use crying about it now. She would have to figure out something. Arthur and Eames seemed nice enough, and hadn't hurt her as she had been afraid they would have. If anything, having her kidnappers feel sorry for her being so alone made her feel that much more terrible. She was pathetic, wasn't she? Isn't that why her parents didn't want her back?
Eames was lounging against the wall when she left the bathroom. He smiled indulgently when she startled. "Sorry, I'm a light sleeper."
"Arthur's still asleep, then?" Eames nodded. "Aren't you worried? That I'll say something or someone will find you?"
"Sweetheart, if there was a chance of that happening, do you think he'd sleep so soundly?"
"Oh." The simple confidence in the statement cut her deeply.
"You seem upset."
"I'm not upset," she responded, almost automatically. She had said it dozens of times during her parents' divorce, and it was like second nature to her now.
He touched her face gently. "Liar."
Flushing, she looked down. Only, he was still naked, and that made her flush even deeper and cast her eyes elsewhere. Eames chuckled and pulled her into a tight embrace. "What's this for?" she asked, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.
"Oh, sweetheart. It's all right to be upset." He stroked her hair gently. "Things didn't turn out the way you'd hoped."
Ariadne blinked back the tears that were starting to burn behind her eyes. "I'll be okay."
"Of course you will," he said with a smile in his voice. He picked her up in his arms, startling her. He grinned when she wrapped her arms and legs around him in a panic. "You've got us."
"But..."
Eames shifted her position so that their mouths could meet in a kiss. He walked her partway back to the bed, but ultimately pressed her up against the wall. She gasped against his mouth, especially when he pressed into her intently. "No buts," he said against her mouth, shifting his position on her to tug the shirt upward. He pressed his fingers against her, sliding them around her folds until she gasped at the contact. "You've got us. D'you think we'd let you go back to that?"
The way he spoke made it sound terrible and lonely and awful, and Ariadne wanted to weep at the sound of it. He pushed his fingers inside of her, and all thoughts of her life at the Sorbonne flew out of her head. She let her eyes fall shut as she moaned, hips canting toward his hand for more. A whimper escaped her as his thumb brushed across her clit, and he kissed her roughly. Ariadne held onto his shoulders and locked her ankles around his waist when he slid his length inside of her. Eames moved at an unhurried pace at first, lazily nipping at her lower lip and making slow, languorous thrusts. It gradually quickened until he was slamming himself into her and she thought she could feel stars from the force of her orgasm.
He carefully let her down to her feet after a few moments to catch their breath. Ariadne froze as she straightened out the shirt she was wearing. Arthur was awake, staring at them with undisguised lust in his eyes. "My shirt looks good on you," he rasped.
"We woke the sleepyhead," Eames said, a smile in his voice as he ran a hand down her back. "Go on, give him a kiss."
"But..."
"Come here," Arthur said, voice still rough with sleep. He reached out for her, and Ariadne found herself walking toward him anyway. He pulled her down on top of him as he kissed her deeply. His hands were everywhere, tugging the shirt up enough that he could slide his erection between her sticky thighs. He let out a satisfied groan as he slid home, her body slick and warm around him. He rolled over on top of her, mouth still attached to hers. He kissed her lazily, tongue stroking hers in the same slow rhythm that he was using to rock against her hips. It was a kiss to drown in, a kiss that said she was the most beautiful woman on earth and he couldn't believe she was in bed with him. It was a kiss that could go on forever, and Ariadne missed it when it ended. Arthur rolled over onto his back, propping her up so that he could play with her breasts and watch her expression as she moved against him.
It was a surprise when she came, collapsing down on top of Arthur. A few shallow thrusts were enough to have him follow her, and he held onto her tightly.
This time, Ariadne slept and didn't wake until the afternoon.
When she did, all tangled up in the sheets on the bed, Eames was talking on the phone just out of earshot and she didn't see Arthur. For a fleeting moment there was a sense of panic, that they were leaving her behind and she would be abandoned yet again. Eames half turned, rolling his eyes at whoever was on the other end of the line and saw Ariadne shoot upright in bed. He smiled at her with a half wave of his free hand, and went back to saying whatever it was that he was saying. The panic ebbed inside Ariadne's chest, and she started to feel like an idiot. She cleaned herself up in the bathroom and made her way over to Eames' side.
"Arthur's getting lunch," he said after hanging up his cell phone. "There's some tactical things to take care of, one of which is getting the fuck out of Paris."
Ariadne couldn't breathe. "You are?"
"We are, sweetheart. All three of us." He flashed her an easy grin and pulled her close. "Oh, we're not done with you yet." He kissed the tip of her nose and spun her around. "Here, let me get at that," he said, beginning to finger comb her hair and pick apart the snarls. "I have a comb about somewhere, but I like this better, don't you?"
She smiled at the feel of his fingers on her scalp. "Mmm. Yes, actually."
"Honey, I'm home!" Arthur shouted up the stairs. There was a banging sound, and he came up the stairs looking like a bike messenger. He had a backpack on, a paper bag from a local patisserie and a small carry on suitcase. He grinned at the sight of Eames picking through Ariadne's hair. "Ah. My two favorite people in all the world."
Ariadne's stomach did a nervous flutter at the sight of his grin, and her smile at him was unsure. "Hi."
Arthur tucked the bags under the table in the kitchenette and put the paper bag on the table. He quickly divvied up the food and dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Sleep well?"
"Yes," she murmured, feeling as though it was all so surreal.
They ate, and it felt almost comfortable to be sitting with them and having sandwiches and coffee. It felt natural, as if she had done this every day for years.
"I have good news, and I have bad news," Arthur said after a moment, looking at Ariadne. "Which do you want first?"
"Bad news," she replied automatically.
"Your parents finally came through with the money."
It hit her like a punch in the gut, and the breath left her. The sandwich suddenly felt leaden in her stomach. "They did," she murmured, staring at him. "This is bad news?"
"Depends on you, doesn't it?" Arthur asked in careful tones. "Depends if you want to stay with us." He took in her pale face, the way her hands shook on the table. "I want you to stay, Ariadne. I know Eames feels the same way."
"I... I don't..."
"They were two days overdue," Arthur told her in a soft and careful voice. "If we weren't who we are..."
He didn't have to continue that statement. Anyone else might have killed her.
"Sweetheart, breathe," Eames said, rubbing her back in gentle circles. "Fuck, Arthur, did you have to say that?"
"It's okay," Ariadne wheezed, shaking her head.
"It's not okay," Arthur said, coming to stand in front of her. He took her face in his hands. "Ariadne, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay? You don't have to go back to how things were. You're missing to them, you don't have to deal with their bullshit anymore."
She was shaking her head, pulling his hands away from her face. "Arthur, I..."
"They ignored you, Ariadne." He glowered at Eames, who must have made a face at him. "Don't look at me like that, Eames. You know it's true. Either of us, if someone close had a problem like this, we'd drop anything to be there, would do anything to help. I don't understand why they can't do that for you."
Ariadne dissolved into tears, and Arthur gathered her up in his arms. Eames continued to rub at her back as Arthur made shushing noises. "This is the bad news. I'm sorry, Ariadne, I'm so sorry." He kissed her forehead. "Stay with us, Ariadne. We have five million euros now."
"Is that the good news?" she asked in a choked voice.
"Sort of. I mean, we can go anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world. We can travel together. Have you done a lot of traveling?" She shook her head. "There are so many beautiful cities. I'd love you to see them. Prague, Venice, Rome, Budapest, Amsterdam... Ariadne, you'd love it there. Those places are beautiful."
"I've never been to any of those places," she whispered, pulling back to rub at her eyes.
Eames stood and came around to hold her on the other side. "C'mon, sweetheart. Lots of firsts with us, then. We'll take you around the world, show you a good time. You don't have to think on this. It'll be great."
"I can make all the arrangements, if you like," Arthur said. "Let's go to Amsterdam. I haven't been there in a while. It's lovely, so much to see and do. You like museums and art and stuff, right?" Ariadne nodded, sniffling. "Then we'll start there. We can take the train, go to Amsterdam and just see the world. Live for a while, until you figure out what you want to do."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you don't," Arthur replied with a shrug.
"We haven't. Not necessarily a bad thing, yeah?" Eames asked, licking the outer shell of her ear. "We found you."
She shivered in their arms. "I don't know what to say," she said finally, helplessly.
"Say yes, love," Eames crooned in her ear, sliding a hand across her abdomen. "The three of us in beautiful cities, making love together."
Arthur kissed her temple, his hand on the rise of her breasts. "We'll always be with you, Ariadne. We'd never leave you, never."
"Yes." Ariadne closed her eyes, not sure what the hell she was doing. But she could feel their smiles in their kisses against her face. "I should wash up."
"Go shower. We'll get everything ready."
Eames waited until she was in the shower, water running. He looked over at Arthur. "Smooth, Arthur. I didn't think it would work."
Arthur snorted at him and put the carry on bag onto the table so he could count the money. "I told you not to doubt me. I knew we'd have both her and the money."
"Touch and go for a while there," he said with a shrug. "Can't blame me for doubting, can you? Got the passports?"
"Yeah. Jean-Pierre's paid in full now. I gave him the keys to her apartment the day we took her. He tossed the place and emptied her accounts. It paid for everything we owe him as well as the new passports. We can visit Thierry in Amsterdam to get new ones and toss these if he decides to follow us." Arthur took a sip of his coffee as Eames locked the carry on bag again. "There was a little extra to cover for Gaston's loss."
Eames lofted an eyebrow at Arthur. "Do I want to know?"
"I told him not to look in the bag and just hold onto it for me. Bastard thought he could have half."
"Ah, well. I was wondering what was taking you so long this morning. Teaches him not to be greedy."
"Jean-Pierre won't miss him for a few days. We'll be in Amsterdam by then."
Eames smiled as he looked over at the bathroom. "She's delicious, Arthur. I'm going to enjoy corrupting her."
Arthur's smile was almost chilling. "We both will, Eames. And she's going to enjoy every second of it."
He laughed. "This is the best idea you've ever had, darling. Glad I could help with the conditioning bit. She might've left you despite all your careful planning otherwise." He shrugged off his shirt. "Let's join her."
Arthur smirked at Eames. "Now who's greedy? Good thing I like you and I'm willing to share." He shook his head at Eames' laughter and the two men headed into the bathroom to join Ariadne. Traveling around Europe had never seemed like so much fun before. Arthur was looking forward to it.
The End