Porn Battle XII ficlets
It’s Porn Battle XII time and I wrote porn. Go figure. ;)
None of these were beta’ed. I don’t own ANYONE in these ficlets, which is a shame. Everyone here is an adult and engaging in very consensual and very not kid safe activities. You know how I like to write it. :D
These three are actually in a series, which I labeled "Show Me Your Teeth" on AO3. Yes, it's from Lady GaGa. I couldn't think of anything else at the time! :P
"Staking A Claim." Inception - Ariadne/Eames, lycanthropy
In a world where you could literally enter and change someone else's dream, Ariadne supposed that finding out werewolves were real shouldn't have been the surprise that it was. Of course, how she found out likely had something to do with it.
She had been working with Arthur and one or two different extractors after the Fischer job, and for this particular one they needed a forger. Eames was the best out there, and he had been in between jobs himself. The timing had been good, and they were looking to extract the location of a silver mine from their subject. Their employer had been quite adamant that he didn't care what happened to the subject as long as the location of the mine was obtained. Really, that should have been the first clue, but most employers made similar statements so Arthur and their extractor du jour didn't think much of it.
The extraction itself was simple, but once they were done giving the report, their employer hit a button that put the room on lock down. Then he shifted and started attacking. The furred shape didn't seem deterred by any shots from Arthur's Glock or Eames' USP Compact, so Ariadne didn't even bother with the Baretta she had started carrying. Their extractor went down in a mess of blood and snapped bone, screaming until he was drowning in his own blood. Ariadne found some kind of heavy decorative item on the desk and beat at the head of the furred shape, but it swatted her away. She went flying across the room, and everything swam dizzily after that.
Eames took up the object and kept up the assault on the creature's head as its muzzle was buried within the mass of intestine of what used to be their extractor. Arthur was searching for the damn button, shooting abandoned for the moment.
It was a blur, but Eames didn't even scream when the creature turned its head and bit into his thigh. He slammed the object right into the creature's face, smashing the muzzle open. Arthur was shouting something Ariadne couldn't make out with the ringing in her ears, and then he swung a chair into the remains of the creature's head. It was soon reduced to nothing but pulp, but Eames was growing pale.
Arthur managed to avoid any questions at the hospital they were forced to go to. Since there were no bullet wounds and only a suspicious bite, he claimed that they were all attacked while on their way to an early dinner, and he didn't know what breed of dog it had been. Ariadne had fallen and hit her head on a fence, and Eames had gotten the worst of the attack before the dog's owner came to drag it away. Though hospital staff was suspicious, there wasn't much else they could do about it. Eames' bite was treated and he received antibiotics as prophylactic treatment for infection. Ariadne had a mild concussion but no obvious fractures, and was allowed out of the hospital as long as her friends were willing to watch over her to be sure that her symptoms didn't worsen.
Somehow, Ariadne should have known that they had gotten off easy at the hospital.
Eames didn't seem to respond well to the antibiotic, as he had a fever over the next few days that spiked at 103 degrees Fahrenheit. He babbled, and Arthur went off in search of a street medic who could figure out what other antibiotic they could give him. Ariadne stayed to keep watch over him, pressing cool compresses over his forehead and chest to try to bring down the fever. She rearranged the sheets so they wouldn't get too soaked, and rested her hand on his chest. He growled at her, actually growled, and it gave her pause for a moment. "Eames?"
"Your hand burns," he snarled, baring his teeth at her. They looked oddly sharp, and the snaggle tooth in the front was actually straight now.
Stared at him uncomprehendingly, and he snatched at her wrist to pull it away from his skin. She was wearing two rings on that hand, simple silver bands. While she didn't normally wear much jewelry, part of the look for reaching the subject had been adding tasteful jewelry to look like a professional personal assistant. She possibly could have done without them, but they had modeled her look on that of the subject's own assistant, and she wore a lot of silver rings and bracelets.
Silver.
Ariadne peeled his fingers from her wrist and pulled off the rings. She then touched his arm, and he didn't seem as agitated. "It's the silver that bothers you."
"Is that what it was?" he asked, voice rough and more like a growl. He flicked his eyes toward her, and his blue eyes suddenly seemed more blue.
What big eyes you have, she thought wildly, taking in the subtle shifts in his appearance. What big teeth you have.
"Your heart's beating faster," Eames said, pushing himself up into a more seated position. He licked his lips, flashing those sharp teeth. "I can smell you."
"Wh-what?" she stammered, looking at him in disbelief. "What the fuck, Eames?"
"I can smell your scent," he said, leaning forward and catching her wrist in his. "The godawful perfume we all picked, and the soap, and the shampoo, and you," he said, voice dropping into a growl. "I want it. I want that scent. You're fucking driving me insane with it."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked. "You're feverish," she declared with bravado. "You're going out of your mind as your brain boils."
It didn't explain the teeth. Or the eyes. Or the way he sniffed the air around her.
Eames smiled, a baring of teeth that seemed more predatory than reassuring. "No. I see better now. I hear better now. Everything is better now, and you're not really afraid." He pulled her closer to his chest, and she could feel heat radiating off of him through her thin blouse. "You're not afraid of me, of this, of anything." He ducked his head down and kissed her, tongue curling and licking into her mouth. Ariadne made a helpless noise of pleasure; okay, maybe she'd had a couple of fantasies about him. She wasn't blind, after all. She also wasn't stupid enough to screw up a working relationship for a quick thrill, no matter how wonderful it might have been in the short run.
Shifting his grasp to her rear, Eames pulled her up onto the bed beside him. "You belong to me, don't you?" he growled, pulling up her skirt. She had thigh high silk stockings and a cotton thing beneath the pencil skirt, and Eames was wearing only his boxers. His hands roamed over her bare skin, and he tilted his head to nip at her ear. Ariadne clung to his broad shoulders, gasping. "Ariadne," he prompted, growling.
"Y-yes," she whispered, shaking as his fingertips ghosted over the cotton of the thong. She was wet already, her heart pounding in her chest.
Eames nibbled at her earlobe, nuzzling her slightly as his fingers pressed fractionally harder. "I don't like sharing. Much."
"What's happening to you, Eames?" Ariadne whispered.
"I need this," he replied, which didn't quite answer the question. That, at least, was the same. "I want you, Ariadne. I can practically taste you, and I want it."
"This isn't like you," she protested, pushing back. His fingers teased the hemline of the thong, tracing sensitive skin and sifting through crisp hair. His eyes were so very blue and sharp as they watched her lick her lips nervously.
"You know what thing was, don't you?" he said, voice rough. His teeth were so very sharp.
"I was concussed," she protested, shaking her head a little. It was enough to make her a little dizzy again, and her heart seemed to beat faster.
Eames pulled impatiently at her thong, but she didn't move to help him. It felt like she was caught in his grasp, prey frozen in fear in front a predator, frantically praying that it wasn't hungry and would leave her alone.
Not bloody likely.
"Not when it started. Not when he first changed, not when he took down that idiot before the wanker could even draw his gun." He watched her, tugging again at the thong. "I didn't think the change worked this fast, but not too many survivors exist. It burns, Ariadne. Arthur thinks it's just infection, but it's changing me. It's burning me." He grimaced, teeth sharp and pointed, canines growing slightly longer. "I'd thought only the full moon brought on changes, but maybe that's only a story."
"It's all only a story," she protested weakly.
He shook his head, eyes dark with lust. "Like dreams are," he said, pulling her forward by her thong. His fingers brushed her folds, making her gasp. She was wet, he could feel it even though he had been able to smell it before. "This isn't a story, Ariadne. It's burning me, and I know what this is now."
"Are you going to become a monster?" she asked, her voice small and afraid. She was alone with him, his fingers were inside her thong and he had already been stronger than her physically. She had no idea what he was capable of now.
"I don't want to be." His other hand tightened on her rear, squeezing and kneading her flesh. "I want you. You'll make it better. I'll feel better with you. Please," he growled, a plaintive note to his voice. "It burns, and your scent's driving me crazy."
Ariadne cautiously took his face between her hands and kissed him. His teeth didn't feel particularly sharp against her tongue, and his blunt fingers didn't feel like they were turning into claws as they slid inside her wet heat. Ariadne gasped and shifted to kneel on the bed beside him. Eames pushed his fingers farther inside of her, liking the sound of the mewl she made in response. She broke the kiss to breathe, then went to kiss his cheek and jaw and neck. He tore the thong along the seam as she sucked at his neck, abrading the skin lightly with her teeth. Now there was nothing to stop him from burying his fingers inside her, from running his thumb across her clit to make her jerk and gasp against him.
It was almost a surprise when she came, clenching down around his fingers. He withdrew them despite her protests and leaned back. Eyes locked to hers, Eames licked his fingers. "Lie down, please," he said, a pleading note in his voice. She did, helping him push her skirt up around her hips. He ran his hands over her silk-covered thighs, making her breath catch in anticipation. Though his erection was straining at the fabric of his boxers, he didn't make any move to take them off yet. Instead, he positioned himself between her spread legs and leaned down to press his mouth to the damp curls. He licked at her folds, probing them until he found her swollen clit. As he teased it mercilessly, he slid two fingers inside of her and started to pump them in and out. Ariadne whimpered and slid her hand into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp restlessly.
Eames kept going even after she came, even after she tugged at his hair hard enough to hurt. She writhed beneath his mouth, her other hand cupping and fondling a breast. There was the dim thought that Arthur would return at some point with antibiotics, and he would find them like this. Ariadne couldn't care about that.
She was a boneless mess when he finished with her, and only then did he slide off the boxers and push into her. She moaned, and reached out to touch his chest. Eames pumped hard and fast inside of her, growling deep in his throat. "Mine," he said one point, and all she could do was agree as she writhed beneath him.
His fever seemed to break when he collapsed on top of her. It had felt like forever, and there was an almost uncomfortable stretch in her thighs as she tried to hold them open to accommodate his frame. Eames carded his fingers through her hair. "Mine," he repeated, this time in a calmer voice.
"Yes," Ariadne agreed, stroking the broad expanse of his back slowly. She pressed her lips against his cheek. "We'll figure out where we're going with this."
She fixed her clothing as he showered. To anyone else, she merely looked rumpled and tired, and it might have been interpreted as sequelae from a concussion.
Though Arthur didn't seem to suspect anything when he returned with antibiotics, Ariadne still felt like a liar. Eames merely smiled in satisfaction, his eyes never leaving her.
"Striking A Balance." Inception - Ariadne/Arthur, quiet, projection, gloves
(Sequel to "Staking A Claim." Also to fill the the "loss of voice" box on my hc_bingo card.)
Eames as a mere mortal had been bad enough. He simply lived with innuendo and smirks, but didn't push past that. Eames as a werewolf? He was insufferable and insatiable.
Arthur didn't seem to understand what was going on between the two of them, and had merely thought it was Eames being somewhat possessive and protective of her after the close call they had with their former employer. Eames was unfailingly polite toward Arthur, never hinting at any jealousy over his friendship with Ariadne. Once he was gone, however, Eames bedded Ariadne as many times as he could, making her scream in pleasure until her voice was hoarse and she could feel his touch for hours afterward.
Now she lost her voice, and he was quietly smirking at her. Shooting him the finger only made him laugh.
Arthur teased Ariadne about the forced quiet, which only seemed to make her fume. For safety he suggested that they all stay together, as he couldn't be sure that their former employer would have friends (pack mates, he had almost said before correcting himself) who would try to find them. It had only been two weeks since the incident, and he didn't feel it was safe enough yet to return to their usual homes.
Damn and fuck. Ariadne missed her apartment in Paris all the more fiercely now that she couldn't go there.
Glaring at Eames as if she could light him on fire with her mind, Ariadne scrawled on a pad of paper that she didn't want to stay in the same room as him. Considering it was a relatively small suite, that would be a neat trick. Eames told her so, eyes flashing so very blue and his teeth sharp inside his smile. Ariadne felt her insides turn to water at the sight, but steeled herself against it. No matter how good a lover he was, she was still angry with him. It might have been irrational, but she didn't care.
I need time alone! she'd written down. Tossing it at Eames, she retreated into a corner of the room with the PASIV. "What's to stop me?" he drawled, heat in his gaze.
Arthur sighed and touched his arm to draw his attention away from Ariadne. "Listen, I know you're going stir crazy, too. Maybe we should just lay off the quiet jokes."
"She's not the quiet type," Eames replied in a huff, sinking down into a chair. There was a low growl in his throat as he looked at Ariadne preparing the PASIV. "How long are you staying away from me, then?" It was almost a snarl, startling Arthur.
Ariadne held up a single finger, then laid down on the bed and then inserted the lines. She pressed the button and closed her eyes, falling into a dream without them.
Eames managed to last five minutes before he was antsy, jumping up and pacing the room as if his skin was crawling. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Arthur asked. "You've never been this way before, even during that shit storm in Kiev."
"This is different," Eames snarled before he could catch himself. His eyes flashed and his hands were hooked into claws. "I can't..." He turned away and continued to pace, teeth grit together. The full moon was coming. He could feel it. He hadn't wanted to scare Ariadne, not really, but he couldn't be certain that he would be safe when the full moon rose. He could feel it pulling at him, the muscles beneath his skin crawling with the urge to shift and change now, damn the consequences. But he wouldn't subject Arthur or Ariadne to this, not willingly, and he still hadn't figured out what he would do about it.
Arthur remained silent, taking in his agitation and the near growls deep in his throat. If things were falling into place for the point man, he wasn't saying. Eames couldn't see why Arthur wouldn't figure it out; he was whip smart and could piece together information easily. His imagination was perfectly fine in chasing down projections within dreams or putting together larger pictures and poking holes in plans. He was too literal in other respects, but his temperament was suited to his job in the field.
Eames locked himself in the bathroom for a good wank. Maybe that would take the edge off for a few minutes.
When Eames didn't come out right away, Arthur knocked on the door. "Hey. I'll go into the dream and see if I can talk to Ariadne, all right? Whatever's going on between the two of you, I'm sure it'll turn out fine."
"She wanted to be alone."
"She wanted to be away from you since you haven't left her alone in the past two weeks," Arthur replied in an irritated tone of voice. "You weren't the only one hurt in that fiasco, Eames. Being overprotective of her now isn't going to help matters."
Eames' thigh throbbed at the reminder. He had kept the bandages on, not wanting to see the bite marks even though it felt as if they were healed by now. "Tell her I'm sorry, then," he told Arthur through the door.
Arthur agreed and then went to lie down beside Ariadne to enter her dream.
***
Arthur found himself in some kind of amalgamation of Paris and the countryside. There were the familiar older prewar buildings, and he could make out Ariadne's apartment building in Paris. He headed there first, having the feeling he would find her there. Sure enough, the doorway was open and she was standing on the balcony looking out over the fields. In reality, her apartment didn't have a balcony, but there also weren't rolling fields in the middle of Paris. The streets below were devoid of projections, which he thought was rather odd. It gave the entire dream an eerie feeling, since it was so quiet. He wasn't used to Paris being silent and still.
He was dressed in dark clothing, fingerless gloves on his hands. He could feel the familiar weight of a Glock beneath the black leather jacket and now felt silly. Whatever she was dreaming of, she wasn't in any danger. Still, he was reluctant to dissolve the weapon or clothing. Just in case. He would be a poor point man if he didn't actually evaluate the situation first.
Knocking on the door to the dream apartment, Arthur waited until Ariadne turned. The knocks seemed to boom across the silence, startling him. "Why did you follow me?" she asked. There was no inflection in her tone, nothing to tell him if she was annoyed or not.
"You're irritated with Eames, not me," Arthur said, deciding to take a flippant approach. "I figured I'd try to see if there was a possibility for a truce."
She turned to face the countryside again. "I just needed space and time. I'll be fine, Arthur."
He came closer and touched her arm. Her eyes were red, as if she was crying, and something in him broke at the sight. "Ariadne..."
"It's quiet here," she said, apropos of nothing. "I got rid of the dangerous ones."
Arthur could see a dark mound in the distance, just at the edge of the countryside. It looked like a heap of wolves, but he couldn't be entirely sure at this distance. "You're scared because of that last job?" He paused to let Ariadne answer, but she didn't. "He's changing, isn't he?"
Ariadne nodded and impulsively threw herself at Arthur, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm trying not to be afraid of him. He won't hurt me. Won't hurt us. I know that, but..."
He stroked her hair, his other arm around her. He leaned down to kiss her forehead just as she was looking up to talk to him. Their mouths met and neither pulled away. Instead of the fleeting kiss from the Fischer job, this one deepened and he simply held her for a long time. "We'll be all right," Arthur told her, cupping her face in his hands. "I'd never allow anything else."
"How can you make that promise?"
Hands running down her arms, Arthur took in the shiver that went through her. "Because I'd never let anyone hurt you, Ariadne."
Ariadne's mouth fell open in an O of surprise, and Arthur swept in to kiss her. His tongue touched hers, and his gloved hands tightened over her arms. Being a dream, it was easy enough to make their clothes disappear, though Ariadne put her hands over his. "Keep them on," she said, lips curling up at the corners. She brought his hands up to her lips and kissed a knuckle. "I like this look on you." She licked her lips, feeling almost nervous under his steady, intense gaze. "Touch me while you're wearing them."
"I didn't know this kind of thing turned you on."
She gave him a slightly nervous smile. "I'll bet there's a lot you don't know about me."
Arthur knelt in front of her, letting his gloved hands trail down her naked body. He smiled when she shivered, when her nipples pebbled and her breath caught. "Let's see if I can figure it out, then," he said, dimple showing. One hand circled to her hip, fingers flexing and pressing into her buttocks. His breath ghosted over her abdomen as his other hand trailed down her thigh. "I'm sure I'll learn what I need to know."
Ariadne threaded her fingers through his hair as he leaned forward and kissed her stomach. His touch was gentle, a contrast of leather and skin. It was different from Eames' ravenous, heady touch. She liked this just as much. Letting her eyes fall shut, she sighed in pleasure. "Arthur..."
"Sh... You can't talk, remember?" he murmured against her belly button. One of his hands was between her legs now, stroking her skin. "You lost your voice. Probably yelling at Eames, am I right?" he continued, breath warm against her stomach. "So you stay quiet and let me make you feel better."
If only Arthur knew, but Ariadne wouldn't tell him exactly why she lost her voice. Besides, it was nice to see the quietly protective side of Arthur. Usually he kept his stoic persona in place, keeping others at arm's length by professionalism. She was liking what she saw behind that mask, and he could be just as intense as Eames.
She gave herself over to his touch until the timer ran out.
***
Eames' eyes were hurt and judging when Ariadne woke. She couldn't speak, and that was just as well. She cupped his face in her hands and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips when Arthur was in the bathroom. "I'm sorry," Eames murmured. "But I can't lose you. I'd do anything for you."
Ariadne smiled and nodded, and sat in his lap to wind her arms around him. It was comfortable now, and his arms were a welcome weight around her. Perhaps the quiet time had helped them both calm down.
"Before Moonrise." Inception - Ariadne/Arthur/Eames, dominance, fight
(In a series with "Staking A Claim," and "Striking A Balance.")
By the time Ariadne regained her voice, Arthur thought it was safe enough to head out from their hiding place. As far as any of his contacts knew, no one was looking for them under any of their known aliases, and there were no whisper of retaliation from their former employer's friends or associates. Ariadne wanted to return to Paris, and Eames merely stared at her as if it was the most idiotic idea known to mankind. "What?" she asked, packing her clothes. There hadn't been too many to start with, since the job initially was only supposed to be an overnight stay in Budapest.
"The full moon is tomorrow," Eames said. His eyes were fever bright as he contemplated her. "Paris is too full of people. Your flat is too small." It was as if the words hurt him, as if he didn't want to admit any kind of weakness.
Ariadne hadn't thought of that, to be honest. She had thought that the change was over, there wasn't anything more to worry about than too-sharp teeth and too-bright eyes, the edgy restlessness and posturing for dominance between him and Arthur. There had been even more strain between the two men after they had woken from the PASIV, as if Eames knew that Arthur had very carefully fucked her every which way within the dream. Then again, his sense of smell had been augmented, and she likely had smelled like arousal and need. She paused in her packing, trying to figure out some sort of compromise. As tiny as her Parisian apartment was, it was hers, and she wanted something other than this tiny suite to stay in.
Arthur had the PASIV and his own bag already packed neatly, ready to go. "I know of a place in Florence," he said quietly. "A villa in the outskirts of the city, no one else around. It should be safe enough if you change."
As much as Eames obviously didn't want to be beholden to Arthur, he nodded stiffly in acceptance. "I suppose I'll see you after," he told Ariadne, hurt in his tone.
"I wouldn't leave you," she said, shaking her head. "There's time to go home afterward."
"I'll book the tickets for the three of us," Arthur said, taking charge. Eames bared his teeth in annoyance, but had to concede the point. He didn't know where the villa was, after all. He would have to make the concession, even though every part of him itched to split Arthur's lips across his teeth and crack his ribcage open to taste his beating heart.
Eames felt his insides settle into place when Ariadne touched his arm. The rising animosity calmed, and he nodded at her with more confidence than he felt. He could wait.
***
The villa was beautiful, something that had been in someone's family for generations. Apparently Arthur collected highbrow contacts and favors the way Eames had collected names and unsavory connections, so it was easy to make a few innocent sounding inquiries about an isolated place to stay for a mini vacation. It was large and spacious, especially after the tiny suite they had been in while hiding in Budapest. They picked bedrooms to stay in for the duration, though by unspoken agreement they were all close to each other. Eames' had little furniture in it; he didn't want to break everything to kindling if he turned violent.
It turned out to be a valid worry. As night fell, he grew even more agitated and started breaking the chairs in the room. It had been surprisingly easy for him to do, and had led to Ariadne standing in the doorway with a pale face. She looked like a low hanging moon in the darkness, and Eames could feel the pull of the change rising underneath his skin. He growled, hands curling into claws. She hesitated, a hand partially extended to touch him. "Eames..." she began, voice uncertain.
He wanted to howl. He wanted to grab her and push her beneath him so he could mount her until the raging onslaught within was gone. He wanted to rip everything to bloody shreds and show the world that he ruled it. He wanted...
Arthur came and pulled her away from the doorway, lips compressed tight. There was an unhappy glint in his eye as he took in Eames, chest heaving with the effort not to launch himself at them. He very calmly and deliberately closed the bedroom door.
But Eames heard his heartbeat. It was erratic, as if he was afraid.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the sharp points. Arthur was afraid of him. Or for him? Or for Ariadne? He couldn't tell. But it was intoxicating, and the need to assert himself over them was rising. Eames looked down at his hands, still hooked into claws. The muscle beneath his skin rippled slightly.
Stunned, Eames nicked his tongue on his canine, which had elongated slightly. He tasted his own blood, tangy and delicious on his tongue. It sparked that primal urge within him, to beat Arthur's face in until he tasted blood, to show him that Ariadne belonged to him. Or to turn him around and mount him as well, to show them both that he was the stronger one, he was the one that had the power here.
He forced his hands back into flat planes, forced his breathing to calm. On some level, he knew he was dangerous. He was even more dangerous now than before, and he really didn't want to harm either Arthur or Ariadne. That they were here with him and hadn't killed him showed him how much they trusted him, how much they cared.
The conflicting urges warred within him, and they were running out of time. Tomorrow was the full moon.
***
Arthur dragged a box into the sitting room where Eames was pacing. He had kicked a table in the parlor earlier, shattering it; he no longer trusted himself around furniture of any kind, since it had been a solid mahogany desk. "What's that?" Eames asked, voice rough and deep.
Arthur opened the top and dragged out a loop of chain. "If you're worried about this, we can always chain you down. It should limit the damage."
"Fucking hell."
"What would you have done last night?" Arthur continued, eyes sharp. Eames could scent anger and fear in him, a wild desperation that was heady and intoxicating. It was the stuff of hunts, the kind of scent that a predator would use to chase down prey.
Fuck.
"I don't know," Eames said finally. "It feels good when she's close," he said, nearly growling. "You can't take her from me. I need her."
There was something not quite like pity in his gaze, and Eames didn't want to tolerate it. It was uncomfortable and horrible to be on the receiving end of it, and Eames turned away from Arthur. "Then we do this, so she can sit next to you safely. So you won't hurt her by accident."
"You're in love with her," Eames snarled. He bared his teeth but Arthur didn't back down even though Eames could clearly smell the adrenaline spike.
"So are you," Arthur returned. "So we're going to do this to keep her safe. Otherwise, we walk. I won't let her put herself into danger, and I don't think you'd want that either."
No, he didn't. Arthur got him there, and Eames nearly howled in defeat. He started when Arthur touched his arm. The crawling feeling under his skin settled a bit in response to Arthur's touch, but Eames didn't pay attention to that. "We'll get through this, Eames. I promise."
Eames believed him, too. If Arthur put his mind to something, it generally happened.
***
Eames tugged on the chains experimentally. Ariadne had wound one of her scarves around each wrist and ankle, then Arthur had attached the chains. There wasn't a lot of give and he couldn't pull them out of the wall. He didn't want to know how Arthur had arranged to insert the iron rings into the walls for the chains to attach to. It was probably best if he didn't ask about those kinds of things. Ariadne sat beside him, stroking his face and hair. He could smell her, could see the shivers rolling through her when he let his tongue touch the inside of her wrist when she moved it past his lips. "You'll stay here?" he asked, his voice unrecognizable.
"I'll stay," Ariadne confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He tilted his chin up so she got his nose, and smiled when she laughed. It was so difficult to get her to laugh, though that wasn't always the urge he had around her. She kissed his mouth, and Arthur turned away slightly to give them a little privacy. Her fingers were light on his chest, and he wanted to rip the chains out of the wall to ravish her.
Another tug, more forceful than before, but he was truly bound to the wall. "I want to touch you," he whined. "It's hours before moonrise," he said, pleading with her. "I just want to touch you. I want to taste you."
Ariadne blushed fiercely, looking in Arthur's direction. As if they hadn't fucked in dreams, as if he couldn't figure that part out. He bared his teeth when she began to speak. "Eames..."
"Don't look at him," he snarled, looking at Ariadne almost desperately. "Just me." He saw the concern in her face and pulled at the chain, desperate to try to run his fingers through her hair. "I just want to touch you. You make it better."
Leaning down slightly, Ariadne touched her lips to his in a soft kiss. "Are you sure? This isn't making it worse?"
"It's calming me down, see?" he insisted, refraining from pulling at the chains. He wanted to, though. He wanted to rip them from the wall and flip her onto her back. Or maybe onto all fours. Or pressed up against the wall, pushing into her as hard as he could until the burning inside his veins stopped. A soft whine left his throat as she ran her hands across his chest. He was bare to the waist, as he had ripped all of his shirts in a rage earlier that day. Eyes locked to his the entire time, Ariadne continued stroking his chest and shoulders. "It helps," he told her, meaning it.
That eased her mind as he hoped it would, and she leaned into the touch. It was easy to forget that he was chained for her protection. He could pretend this was simply a game they were playing, that she had him tied up so she could have her wicked way with him. It didn't even matter that Arthur was in the room, that he could hear Eames making soft contented sounds as Ariadne stroked him.
When Eames opened his eyes, Arthur was sitting on the floor to the side of the room, trying to be unobtrusive about watching. He was keeping an eye on Ariadne more than anything else, and Eames had the perverse wish to make Arthur watch him. He twisted to try to kiss Ariadne's wrist, which made her grin at Eames. "Come closer, darling," he said, his voice a low rumble. She leaned in, lips parted slightly, and he leaned up to kiss her.
Ariadne giggled. "You're still you."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," he said, almost gratified by the agitated twitch in Arthur's jaw. Ha. Chained up and still better than you, he thought, rather uncharitably. "Hey... Get on top of me. You'll have an easier time of it, not having to twist all about."
Ariadne's flicked toward Arthur, uncertainly. "I don't know if that's a good idea..."
"He can be a gentleman and leave," Eames replied, pointedly letting his voice rise in volume. "Or join in. I don't bloody care as long as you keep touching me like that."
She straddled his waist then placed her hands on his chest. Her short nails scratched at his chest lightly, making him sigh in pleasure. Ariadne stroked his chest and face, then leaned down to touch his bound arms. She kissed his mouth, sucking on his lower lip and abrading it lightly with her teeth. His were sharper, so he didn't try to return the gesture. Instead, he let his tongue brush over her lips gently, just enough to make her shiver and shimmy slightly over him. The press of her weight over him coupled with her scent drove him up the wall, and he tried to lift his hips a little to touch her. He was erect within his trousers, and the brush of her leg against him made him growl with need.
Uncertainly, Ariadne looked back toward Arthur, who had remained in the room. He studiously was looking away, jaw clenched tight. She looked back toward Eames and unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the demi cup bra she was wearing. He grinned at her, and made an appreciative noise when she tossed the blouse away and leaned down over his chest again. She rubbed her skin against his, and he could ignore the rippling of the muscle beneath his skin. Moonrise was hours away still, and he could hold it off until then if he had incentive enough to.
She was so involved in this teasing dance that it was startling when Arthur's hand came down over her shoulder. Ariadne gasped and lifted her head from Eames' jaw. "Arthur?"
"It's all right," he said, throat working convulsively. "You don't have to stop just because I'm here. This is the calmest he's been since we got here."
It was odd, having Arthur help her undress Eames, finally cutting his clothes from his body. Eames thought about calling Arthur a kinky bastard but decided that was pushing him too far. It might lead to a fight he couldn't win, not while he was chained up. Eames did snarl at him for helping Ariadne undress, his hands too familiar over the curve of her hip and the sweep of her thigh where it met her sensitive knees.
Arthur kept his eyes on Eames as his hands slid Ariadne's pants down. "So how are we doing this?"
"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, startled.
"I'm not leaving," Arthur said, pulling the pants from Ariadne's ankle. His hand slid across her instep, making her gasp. "So how are we coordinating the three of us?"
Eames found himself laughing in spite of the urge rising to dominate the hell out of Arthur to show him who was boss. "I just need you touching me. I need something, anything, to hold onto, something to focus on." He looked at the flush rising in Ariadne's skin. "Fuck, I want to taste you so badly."
Arthur helped Ariadne climb on top of Eames so that she retained her balance. Though she was embarrassed, she pushed it aside since that was what he seemed to need just then. His tongue curling around her folds felt just as wonderful as before, and she closed her eyes. Eames' mouth was at her sex, probing and licking at her as if he could devour her whole. Arthur had his lips at her shoulder and one hand curled around her breast, her nipple between two fingers. She didn't know where his other hand was, but it wasn't on her body at all. If she had to guess, it would be that Arthur was running his other hand over the planes of Eames' chest and stomach to soothe the rising agitation within him.
Ariadne gasped and panted, one hand clutching Eames' shoulder and the other reaching around Arthur's waist. She bucked her hips against Eames' mouth, whimpering as his tongue lapped and curled around her clit. "Oh, God," she moaned, her head falling back. Arthur kissed her jaw, and captured her mouth with his once she turned her head. He swallowed her cries when she came, body shaking against his.
She felt all loose-limbed and boneless as she slid down Eames' chest to impale herself on his cock. Arthur's other hand had indeed been on Eames' chest, and he sat back on his haunches when she moved. He shed his clothes quickly, his own cock erect and seeping at the tip. He moved to straddle Eames' abdomen and took hold of Ariadne's face to kiss her. She slid her tongue into his mouth and moved one hand down to grasp and pull at his cock, thumb swiping over the wet slit. He groaned into her mouth and shifted his hips in her grasp. Ariadne rocked slowly over Eames, moaning low in her throat. After a moment, Arthur shifted her hand to grasp his ass for balance, and he shifted his hips slightly so that the head of his cock rubbed against her clit on her down strokes. He also slid along Eames' body, making the man groan and tilt his hips up.
"Fuck," Eames said, voice strained. "If I'd known this was possible, I'd've pushed for this ages ago."
Arthur reached back with one hand and scraped his nails across Eames' chest. "Shut up," he said, trying to be forceful. Instead, his voice came out as a strangled groan of pleasure. Ariadne's hands were tight on his ass, pulling him against her as she slid down Eames, teasing him with a bit of her wetness before she rocked backward. When Eames cried out in release, Arthur waited a beat before moving from the bed. He had Ariadne lean forward, her body over Eames' with her ass in the air and his spent cock lying across his stomach. Arthur slid into Ariadne from behind, making her moan deliciously. She kissed Eames, her hands on his shoulders as Arthur pumped into her hard and fast. He didn't last much longer, and came as well.
Eames was lying beneath them, eyes closed and breath shallow and rapid. "Okay?" Ariadne asked, cradling his face gently. It was still only a few hours to moonrise, and she was studiously avoiding thinking about what they had just done.
His eyes were shockingly blue but still his own. "Yeah. It's settled down now." He smiled at her and tilted his head up as far as he could to give her a kiss. "Whatever happens next, I love you."
She hung onto the words when the moon rose and the screaming began.
None of these were beta’ed. I don’t own ANYONE in these ficlets, which is a shame. Everyone here is an adult and engaging in very consensual and very not kid safe activities. You know how I like to write it. :D
These three are actually in a series, which I labeled "Show Me Your Teeth" on AO3. Yes, it's from Lady GaGa. I couldn't think of anything else at the time! :P
"Staking A Claim." Inception - Ariadne/Eames, lycanthropy
In a world where you could literally enter and change someone else's dream, Ariadne supposed that finding out werewolves were real shouldn't have been the surprise that it was. Of course, how she found out likely had something to do with it.
She had been working with Arthur and one or two different extractors after the Fischer job, and for this particular one they needed a forger. Eames was the best out there, and he had been in between jobs himself. The timing had been good, and they were looking to extract the location of a silver mine from their subject. Their employer had been quite adamant that he didn't care what happened to the subject as long as the location of the mine was obtained. Really, that should have been the first clue, but most employers made similar statements so Arthur and their extractor du jour didn't think much of it.
The extraction itself was simple, but once they were done giving the report, their employer hit a button that put the room on lock down. Then he shifted and started attacking. The furred shape didn't seem deterred by any shots from Arthur's Glock or Eames' USP Compact, so Ariadne didn't even bother with the Baretta she had started carrying. Their extractor went down in a mess of blood and snapped bone, screaming until he was drowning in his own blood. Ariadne found some kind of heavy decorative item on the desk and beat at the head of the furred shape, but it swatted her away. She went flying across the room, and everything swam dizzily after that.
Eames took up the object and kept up the assault on the creature's head as its muzzle was buried within the mass of intestine of what used to be their extractor. Arthur was searching for the damn button, shooting abandoned for the moment.
It was a blur, but Eames didn't even scream when the creature turned its head and bit into his thigh. He slammed the object right into the creature's face, smashing the muzzle open. Arthur was shouting something Ariadne couldn't make out with the ringing in her ears, and then he swung a chair into the remains of the creature's head. It was soon reduced to nothing but pulp, but Eames was growing pale.
Arthur managed to avoid any questions at the hospital they were forced to go to. Since there were no bullet wounds and only a suspicious bite, he claimed that they were all attacked while on their way to an early dinner, and he didn't know what breed of dog it had been. Ariadne had fallen and hit her head on a fence, and Eames had gotten the worst of the attack before the dog's owner came to drag it away. Though hospital staff was suspicious, there wasn't much else they could do about it. Eames' bite was treated and he received antibiotics as prophylactic treatment for infection. Ariadne had a mild concussion but no obvious fractures, and was allowed out of the hospital as long as her friends were willing to watch over her to be sure that her symptoms didn't worsen.
Somehow, Ariadne should have known that they had gotten off easy at the hospital.
Eames didn't seem to respond well to the antibiotic, as he had a fever over the next few days that spiked at 103 degrees Fahrenheit. He babbled, and Arthur went off in search of a street medic who could figure out what other antibiotic they could give him. Ariadne stayed to keep watch over him, pressing cool compresses over his forehead and chest to try to bring down the fever. She rearranged the sheets so they wouldn't get too soaked, and rested her hand on his chest. He growled at her, actually growled, and it gave her pause for a moment. "Eames?"
"Your hand burns," he snarled, baring his teeth at her. They looked oddly sharp, and the snaggle tooth in the front was actually straight now.
Stared at him uncomprehendingly, and he snatched at her wrist to pull it away from his skin. She was wearing two rings on that hand, simple silver bands. While she didn't normally wear much jewelry, part of the look for reaching the subject had been adding tasteful jewelry to look like a professional personal assistant. She possibly could have done without them, but they had modeled her look on that of the subject's own assistant, and she wore a lot of silver rings and bracelets.
Silver.
Ariadne peeled his fingers from her wrist and pulled off the rings. She then touched his arm, and he didn't seem as agitated. "It's the silver that bothers you."
"Is that what it was?" he asked, voice rough and more like a growl. He flicked his eyes toward her, and his blue eyes suddenly seemed more blue.
What big eyes you have, she thought wildly, taking in the subtle shifts in his appearance. What big teeth you have.
"Your heart's beating faster," Eames said, pushing himself up into a more seated position. He licked his lips, flashing those sharp teeth. "I can smell you."
"Wh-what?" she stammered, looking at him in disbelief. "What the fuck, Eames?"
"I can smell your scent," he said, leaning forward and catching her wrist in his. "The godawful perfume we all picked, and the soap, and the shampoo, and you," he said, voice dropping into a growl. "I want it. I want that scent. You're fucking driving me insane with it."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked. "You're feverish," she declared with bravado. "You're going out of your mind as your brain boils."
It didn't explain the teeth. Or the eyes. Or the way he sniffed the air around her.
Eames smiled, a baring of teeth that seemed more predatory than reassuring. "No. I see better now. I hear better now. Everything is better now, and you're not really afraid." He pulled her closer to his chest, and she could feel heat radiating off of him through her thin blouse. "You're not afraid of me, of this, of anything." He ducked his head down and kissed her, tongue curling and licking into her mouth. Ariadne made a helpless noise of pleasure; okay, maybe she'd had a couple of fantasies about him. She wasn't blind, after all. She also wasn't stupid enough to screw up a working relationship for a quick thrill, no matter how wonderful it might have been in the short run.
Shifting his grasp to her rear, Eames pulled her up onto the bed beside him. "You belong to me, don't you?" he growled, pulling up her skirt. She had thigh high silk stockings and a cotton thing beneath the pencil skirt, and Eames was wearing only his boxers. His hands roamed over her bare skin, and he tilted his head to nip at her ear. Ariadne clung to his broad shoulders, gasping. "Ariadne," he prompted, growling.
"Y-yes," she whispered, shaking as his fingertips ghosted over the cotton of the thong. She was wet already, her heart pounding in her chest.
Eames nibbled at her earlobe, nuzzling her slightly as his fingers pressed fractionally harder. "I don't like sharing. Much."
"What's happening to you, Eames?" Ariadne whispered.
"I need this," he replied, which didn't quite answer the question. That, at least, was the same. "I want you, Ariadne. I can practically taste you, and I want it."
"This isn't like you," she protested, pushing back. His fingers teased the hemline of the thong, tracing sensitive skin and sifting through crisp hair. His eyes were so very blue and sharp as they watched her lick her lips nervously.
"You know what thing was, don't you?" he said, voice rough. His teeth were so very sharp.
"I was concussed," she protested, shaking her head a little. It was enough to make her a little dizzy again, and her heart seemed to beat faster.
Eames pulled impatiently at her thong, but she didn't move to help him. It felt like she was caught in his grasp, prey frozen in fear in front a predator, frantically praying that it wasn't hungry and would leave her alone.
Not bloody likely.
"Not when it started. Not when he first changed, not when he took down that idiot before the wanker could even draw his gun." He watched her, tugging again at the thong. "I didn't think the change worked this fast, but not too many survivors exist. It burns, Ariadne. Arthur thinks it's just infection, but it's changing me. It's burning me." He grimaced, teeth sharp and pointed, canines growing slightly longer. "I'd thought only the full moon brought on changes, but maybe that's only a story."
"It's all only a story," she protested weakly.
He shook his head, eyes dark with lust. "Like dreams are," he said, pulling her forward by her thong. His fingers brushed her folds, making her gasp. She was wet, he could feel it even though he had been able to smell it before. "This isn't a story, Ariadne. It's burning me, and I know what this is now."
"Are you going to become a monster?" she asked, her voice small and afraid. She was alone with him, his fingers were inside her thong and he had already been stronger than her physically. She had no idea what he was capable of now.
"I don't want to be." His other hand tightened on her rear, squeezing and kneading her flesh. "I want you. You'll make it better. I'll feel better with you. Please," he growled, a plaintive note to his voice. "It burns, and your scent's driving me crazy."
Ariadne cautiously took his face between her hands and kissed him. His teeth didn't feel particularly sharp against her tongue, and his blunt fingers didn't feel like they were turning into claws as they slid inside her wet heat. Ariadne gasped and shifted to kneel on the bed beside him. Eames pushed his fingers farther inside of her, liking the sound of the mewl she made in response. She broke the kiss to breathe, then went to kiss his cheek and jaw and neck. He tore the thong along the seam as she sucked at his neck, abrading the skin lightly with her teeth. Now there was nothing to stop him from burying his fingers inside her, from running his thumb across her clit to make her jerk and gasp against him.
It was almost a surprise when she came, clenching down around his fingers. He withdrew them despite her protests and leaned back. Eyes locked to hers, Eames licked his fingers. "Lie down, please," he said, a pleading note in his voice. She did, helping him push her skirt up around her hips. He ran his hands over her silk-covered thighs, making her breath catch in anticipation. Though his erection was straining at the fabric of his boxers, he didn't make any move to take them off yet. Instead, he positioned himself between her spread legs and leaned down to press his mouth to the damp curls. He licked at her folds, probing them until he found her swollen clit. As he teased it mercilessly, he slid two fingers inside of her and started to pump them in and out. Ariadne whimpered and slid her hand into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp restlessly.
Eames kept going even after she came, even after she tugged at his hair hard enough to hurt. She writhed beneath his mouth, her other hand cupping and fondling a breast. There was the dim thought that Arthur would return at some point with antibiotics, and he would find them like this. Ariadne couldn't care about that.
She was a boneless mess when he finished with her, and only then did he slide off the boxers and push into her. She moaned, and reached out to touch his chest. Eames pumped hard and fast inside of her, growling deep in his throat. "Mine," he said one point, and all she could do was agree as she writhed beneath him.
His fever seemed to break when he collapsed on top of her. It had felt like forever, and there was an almost uncomfortable stretch in her thighs as she tried to hold them open to accommodate his frame. Eames carded his fingers through her hair. "Mine," he repeated, this time in a calmer voice.
"Yes," Ariadne agreed, stroking the broad expanse of his back slowly. She pressed her lips against his cheek. "We'll figure out where we're going with this."
She fixed her clothing as he showered. To anyone else, she merely looked rumpled and tired, and it might have been interpreted as sequelae from a concussion.
Though Arthur didn't seem to suspect anything when he returned with antibiotics, Ariadne still felt like a liar. Eames merely smiled in satisfaction, his eyes never leaving her.
"Striking A Balance." Inception - Ariadne/Arthur, quiet, projection, gloves
(Sequel to "Staking A Claim." Also to fill the the "loss of voice" box on my hc_bingo card.)
Eames as a mere mortal had been bad enough. He simply lived with innuendo and smirks, but didn't push past that. Eames as a werewolf? He was insufferable and insatiable.
Arthur didn't seem to understand what was going on between the two of them, and had merely thought it was Eames being somewhat possessive and protective of her after the close call they had with their former employer. Eames was unfailingly polite toward Arthur, never hinting at any jealousy over his friendship with Ariadne. Once he was gone, however, Eames bedded Ariadne as many times as he could, making her scream in pleasure until her voice was hoarse and she could feel his touch for hours afterward.
Now she lost her voice, and he was quietly smirking at her. Shooting him the finger only made him laugh.
Arthur teased Ariadne about the forced quiet, which only seemed to make her fume. For safety he suggested that they all stay together, as he couldn't be sure that their former employer would have friends (pack mates, he had almost said before correcting himself) who would try to find them. It had only been two weeks since the incident, and he didn't feel it was safe enough yet to return to their usual homes.
Damn and fuck. Ariadne missed her apartment in Paris all the more fiercely now that she couldn't go there.
Glaring at Eames as if she could light him on fire with her mind, Ariadne scrawled on a pad of paper that she didn't want to stay in the same room as him. Considering it was a relatively small suite, that would be a neat trick. Eames told her so, eyes flashing so very blue and his teeth sharp inside his smile. Ariadne felt her insides turn to water at the sight, but steeled herself against it. No matter how good a lover he was, she was still angry with him. It might have been irrational, but she didn't care.
I need time alone! she'd written down. Tossing it at Eames, she retreated into a corner of the room with the PASIV. "What's to stop me?" he drawled, heat in his gaze.
Arthur sighed and touched his arm to draw his attention away from Ariadne. "Listen, I know you're going stir crazy, too. Maybe we should just lay off the quiet jokes."
"She's not the quiet type," Eames replied in a huff, sinking down into a chair. There was a low growl in his throat as he looked at Ariadne preparing the PASIV. "How long are you staying away from me, then?" It was almost a snarl, startling Arthur.
Ariadne held up a single finger, then laid down on the bed and then inserted the lines. She pressed the button and closed her eyes, falling into a dream without them.
Eames managed to last five minutes before he was antsy, jumping up and pacing the room as if his skin was crawling. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Arthur asked. "You've never been this way before, even during that shit storm in Kiev."
"This is different," Eames snarled before he could catch himself. His eyes flashed and his hands were hooked into claws. "I can't..." He turned away and continued to pace, teeth grit together. The full moon was coming. He could feel it. He hadn't wanted to scare Ariadne, not really, but he couldn't be certain that he would be safe when the full moon rose. He could feel it pulling at him, the muscles beneath his skin crawling with the urge to shift and change now, damn the consequences. But he wouldn't subject Arthur or Ariadne to this, not willingly, and he still hadn't figured out what he would do about it.
Arthur remained silent, taking in his agitation and the near growls deep in his throat. If things were falling into place for the point man, he wasn't saying. Eames couldn't see why Arthur wouldn't figure it out; he was whip smart and could piece together information easily. His imagination was perfectly fine in chasing down projections within dreams or putting together larger pictures and poking holes in plans. He was too literal in other respects, but his temperament was suited to his job in the field.
Eames locked himself in the bathroom for a good wank. Maybe that would take the edge off for a few minutes.
When Eames didn't come out right away, Arthur knocked on the door. "Hey. I'll go into the dream and see if I can talk to Ariadne, all right? Whatever's going on between the two of you, I'm sure it'll turn out fine."
"She wanted to be alone."
"She wanted to be away from you since you haven't left her alone in the past two weeks," Arthur replied in an irritated tone of voice. "You weren't the only one hurt in that fiasco, Eames. Being overprotective of her now isn't going to help matters."
Eames' thigh throbbed at the reminder. He had kept the bandages on, not wanting to see the bite marks even though it felt as if they were healed by now. "Tell her I'm sorry, then," he told Arthur through the door.
Arthur agreed and then went to lie down beside Ariadne to enter her dream.
***
Arthur found himself in some kind of amalgamation of Paris and the countryside. There were the familiar older prewar buildings, and he could make out Ariadne's apartment building in Paris. He headed there first, having the feeling he would find her there. Sure enough, the doorway was open and she was standing on the balcony looking out over the fields. In reality, her apartment didn't have a balcony, but there also weren't rolling fields in the middle of Paris. The streets below were devoid of projections, which he thought was rather odd. It gave the entire dream an eerie feeling, since it was so quiet. He wasn't used to Paris being silent and still.
He was dressed in dark clothing, fingerless gloves on his hands. He could feel the familiar weight of a Glock beneath the black leather jacket and now felt silly. Whatever she was dreaming of, she wasn't in any danger. Still, he was reluctant to dissolve the weapon or clothing. Just in case. He would be a poor point man if he didn't actually evaluate the situation first.
Knocking on the door to the dream apartment, Arthur waited until Ariadne turned. The knocks seemed to boom across the silence, startling him. "Why did you follow me?" she asked. There was no inflection in her tone, nothing to tell him if she was annoyed or not.
"You're irritated with Eames, not me," Arthur said, deciding to take a flippant approach. "I figured I'd try to see if there was a possibility for a truce."
She turned to face the countryside again. "I just needed space and time. I'll be fine, Arthur."
He came closer and touched her arm. Her eyes were red, as if she was crying, and something in him broke at the sight. "Ariadne..."
"It's quiet here," she said, apropos of nothing. "I got rid of the dangerous ones."
Arthur could see a dark mound in the distance, just at the edge of the countryside. It looked like a heap of wolves, but he couldn't be entirely sure at this distance. "You're scared because of that last job?" He paused to let Ariadne answer, but she didn't. "He's changing, isn't he?"
Ariadne nodded and impulsively threw herself at Arthur, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm trying not to be afraid of him. He won't hurt me. Won't hurt us. I know that, but..."
He stroked her hair, his other arm around her. He leaned down to kiss her forehead just as she was looking up to talk to him. Their mouths met and neither pulled away. Instead of the fleeting kiss from the Fischer job, this one deepened and he simply held her for a long time. "We'll be all right," Arthur told her, cupping her face in his hands. "I'd never allow anything else."
"How can you make that promise?"
Hands running down her arms, Arthur took in the shiver that went through her. "Because I'd never let anyone hurt you, Ariadne."
Ariadne's mouth fell open in an O of surprise, and Arthur swept in to kiss her. His tongue touched hers, and his gloved hands tightened over her arms. Being a dream, it was easy enough to make their clothes disappear, though Ariadne put her hands over his. "Keep them on," she said, lips curling up at the corners. She brought his hands up to her lips and kissed a knuckle. "I like this look on you." She licked her lips, feeling almost nervous under his steady, intense gaze. "Touch me while you're wearing them."
"I didn't know this kind of thing turned you on."
She gave him a slightly nervous smile. "I'll bet there's a lot you don't know about me."
Arthur knelt in front of her, letting his gloved hands trail down her naked body. He smiled when she shivered, when her nipples pebbled and her breath caught. "Let's see if I can figure it out, then," he said, dimple showing. One hand circled to her hip, fingers flexing and pressing into her buttocks. His breath ghosted over her abdomen as his other hand trailed down her thigh. "I'm sure I'll learn what I need to know."
Ariadne threaded her fingers through his hair as he leaned forward and kissed her stomach. His touch was gentle, a contrast of leather and skin. It was different from Eames' ravenous, heady touch. She liked this just as much. Letting her eyes fall shut, she sighed in pleasure. "Arthur..."
"Sh... You can't talk, remember?" he murmured against her belly button. One of his hands was between her legs now, stroking her skin. "You lost your voice. Probably yelling at Eames, am I right?" he continued, breath warm against her stomach. "So you stay quiet and let me make you feel better."
If only Arthur knew, but Ariadne wouldn't tell him exactly why she lost her voice. Besides, it was nice to see the quietly protective side of Arthur. Usually he kept his stoic persona in place, keeping others at arm's length by professionalism. She was liking what she saw behind that mask, and he could be just as intense as Eames.
She gave herself over to his touch until the timer ran out.
***
Eames' eyes were hurt and judging when Ariadne woke. She couldn't speak, and that was just as well. She cupped his face in her hands and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips when Arthur was in the bathroom. "I'm sorry," Eames murmured. "But I can't lose you. I'd do anything for you."
Ariadne smiled and nodded, and sat in his lap to wind her arms around him. It was comfortable now, and his arms were a welcome weight around her. Perhaps the quiet time had helped them both calm down.
"Before Moonrise." Inception - Ariadne/Arthur/Eames, dominance, fight
(In a series with "Staking A Claim," and "Striking A Balance.")
By the time Ariadne regained her voice, Arthur thought it was safe enough to head out from their hiding place. As far as any of his contacts knew, no one was looking for them under any of their known aliases, and there were no whisper of retaliation from their former employer's friends or associates. Ariadne wanted to return to Paris, and Eames merely stared at her as if it was the most idiotic idea known to mankind. "What?" she asked, packing her clothes. There hadn't been too many to start with, since the job initially was only supposed to be an overnight stay in Budapest.
"The full moon is tomorrow," Eames said. His eyes were fever bright as he contemplated her. "Paris is too full of people. Your flat is too small." It was as if the words hurt him, as if he didn't want to admit any kind of weakness.
Ariadne hadn't thought of that, to be honest. She had thought that the change was over, there wasn't anything more to worry about than too-sharp teeth and too-bright eyes, the edgy restlessness and posturing for dominance between him and Arthur. There had been even more strain between the two men after they had woken from the PASIV, as if Eames knew that Arthur had very carefully fucked her every which way within the dream. Then again, his sense of smell had been augmented, and she likely had smelled like arousal and need. She paused in her packing, trying to figure out some sort of compromise. As tiny as her Parisian apartment was, it was hers, and she wanted something other than this tiny suite to stay in.
Arthur had the PASIV and his own bag already packed neatly, ready to go. "I know of a place in Florence," he said quietly. "A villa in the outskirts of the city, no one else around. It should be safe enough if you change."
As much as Eames obviously didn't want to be beholden to Arthur, he nodded stiffly in acceptance. "I suppose I'll see you after," he told Ariadne, hurt in his tone.
"I wouldn't leave you," she said, shaking her head. "There's time to go home afterward."
"I'll book the tickets for the three of us," Arthur said, taking charge. Eames bared his teeth in annoyance, but had to concede the point. He didn't know where the villa was, after all. He would have to make the concession, even though every part of him itched to split Arthur's lips across his teeth and crack his ribcage open to taste his beating heart.
Eames felt his insides settle into place when Ariadne touched his arm. The rising animosity calmed, and he nodded at her with more confidence than he felt. He could wait.
***
The villa was beautiful, something that had been in someone's family for generations. Apparently Arthur collected highbrow contacts and favors the way Eames had collected names and unsavory connections, so it was easy to make a few innocent sounding inquiries about an isolated place to stay for a mini vacation. It was large and spacious, especially after the tiny suite they had been in while hiding in Budapest. They picked bedrooms to stay in for the duration, though by unspoken agreement they were all close to each other. Eames' had little furniture in it; he didn't want to break everything to kindling if he turned violent.
It turned out to be a valid worry. As night fell, he grew even more agitated and started breaking the chairs in the room. It had been surprisingly easy for him to do, and had led to Ariadne standing in the doorway with a pale face. She looked like a low hanging moon in the darkness, and Eames could feel the pull of the change rising underneath his skin. He growled, hands curling into claws. She hesitated, a hand partially extended to touch him. "Eames..." she began, voice uncertain.
He wanted to howl. He wanted to grab her and push her beneath him so he could mount her until the raging onslaught within was gone. He wanted to rip everything to bloody shreds and show the world that he ruled it. He wanted...
Arthur came and pulled her away from the doorway, lips compressed tight. There was an unhappy glint in his eye as he took in Eames, chest heaving with the effort not to launch himself at them. He very calmly and deliberately closed the bedroom door.
But Eames heard his heartbeat. It was erratic, as if he was afraid.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the sharp points. Arthur was afraid of him. Or for him? Or for Ariadne? He couldn't tell. But it was intoxicating, and the need to assert himself over them was rising. Eames looked down at his hands, still hooked into claws. The muscle beneath his skin rippled slightly.
Stunned, Eames nicked his tongue on his canine, which had elongated slightly. He tasted his own blood, tangy and delicious on his tongue. It sparked that primal urge within him, to beat Arthur's face in until he tasted blood, to show him that Ariadne belonged to him. Or to turn him around and mount him as well, to show them both that he was the stronger one, he was the one that had the power here.
He forced his hands back into flat planes, forced his breathing to calm. On some level, he knew he was dangerous. He was even more dangerous now than before, and he really didn't want to harm either Arthur or Ariadne. That they were here with him and hadn't killed him showed him how much they trusted him, how much they cared.
The conflicting urges warred within him, and they were running out of time. Tomorrow was the full moon.
***
Arthur dragged a box into the sitting room where Eames was pacing. He had kicked a table in the parlor earlier, shattering it; he no longer trusted himself around furniture of any kind, since it had been a solid mahogany desk. "What's that?" Eames asked, voice rough and deep.
Arthur opened the top and dragged out a loop of chain. "If you're worried about this, we can always chain you down. It should limit the damage."
"Fucking hell."
"What would you have done last night?" Arthur continued, eyes sharp. Eames could scent anger and fear in him, a wild desperation that was heady and intoxicating. It was the stuff of hunts, the kind of scent that a predator would use to chase down prey.
Fuck.
"I don't know," Eames said finally. "It feels good when she's close," he said, nearly growling. "You can't take her from me. I need her."
There was something not quite like pity in his gaze, and Eames didn't want to tolerate it. It was uncomfortable and horrible to be on the receiving end of it, and Eames turned away from Arthur. "Then we do this, so she can sit next to you safely. So you won't hurt her by accident."
"You're in love with her," Eames snarled. He bared his teeth but Arthur didn't back down even though Eames could clearly smell the adrenaline spike.
"So are you," Arthur returned. "So we're going to do this to keep her safe. Otherwise, we walk. I won't let her put herself into danger, and I don't think you'd want that either."
No, he didn't. Arthur got him there, and Eames nearly howled in defeat. He started when Arthur touched his arm. The crawling feeling under his skin settled a bit in response to Arthur's touch, but Eames didn't pay attention to that. "We'll get through this, Eames. I promise."
Eames believed him, too. If Arthur put his mind to something, it generally happened.
***
Eames tugged on the chains experimentally. Ariadne had wound one of her scarves around each wrist and ankle, then Arthur had attached the chains. There wasn't a lot of give and he couldn't pull them out of the wall. He didn't want to know how Arthur had arranged to insert the iron rings into the walls for the chains to attach to. It was probably best if he didn't ask about those kinds of things. Ariadne sat beside him, stroking his face and hair. He could smell her, could see the shivers rolling through her when he let his tongue touch the inside of her wrist when she moved it past his lips. "You'll stay here?" he asked, his voice unrecognizable.
"I'll stay," Ariadne confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He tilted his chin up so she got his nose, and smiled when she laughed. It was so difficult to get her to laugh, though that wasn't always the urge he had around her. She kissed his mouth, and Arthur turned away slightly to give them a little privacy. Her fingers were light on his chest, and he wanted to rip the chains out of the wall to ravish her.
Another tug, more forceful than before, but he was truly bound to the wall. "I want to touch you," he whined. "It's hours before moonrise," he said, pleading with her. "I just want to touch you. I want to taste you."
Ariadne blushed fiercely, looking in Arthur's direction. As if they hadn't fucked in dreams, as if he couldn't figure that part out. He bared his teeth when she began to speak. "Eames..."
"Don't look at him," he snarled, looking at Ariadne almost desperately. "Just me." He saw the concern in her face and pulled at the chain, desperate to try to run his fingers through her hair. "I just want to touch you. You make it better."
Leaning down slightly, Ariadne touched her lips to his in a soft kiss. "Are you sure? This isn't making it worse?"
"It's calming me down, see?" he insisted, refraining from pulling at the chains. He wanted to, though. He wanted to rip them from the wall and flip her onto her back. Or maybe onto all fours. Or pressed up against the wall, pushing into her as hard as he could until the burning inside his veins stopped. A soft whine left his throat as she ran her hands across his chest. He was bare to the waist, as he had ripped all of his shirts in a rage earlier that day. Eyes locked to his the entire time, Ariadne continued stroking his chest and shoulders. "It helps," he told her, meaning it.
That eased her mind as he hoped it would, and she leaned into the touch. It was easy to forget that he was chained for her protection. He could pretend this was simply a game they were playing, that she had him tied up so she could have her wicked way with him. It didn't even matter that Arthur was in the room, that he could hear Eames making soft contented sounds as Ariadne stroked him.
When Eames opened his eyes, Arthur was sitting on the floor to the side of the room, trying to be unobtrusive about watching. He was keeping an eye on Ariadne more than anything else, and Eames had the perverse wish to make Arthur watch him. He twisted to try to kiss Ariadne's wrist, which made her grin at Eames. "Come closer, darling," he said, his voice a low rumble. She leaned in, lips parted slightly, and he leaned up to kiss her.
Ariadne giggled. "You're still you."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," he said, almost gratified by the agitated twitch in Arthur's jaw. Ha. Chained up and still better than you, he thought, rather uncharitably. "Hey... Get on top of me. You'll have an easier time of it, not having to twist all about."
Ariadne's flicked toward Arthur, uncertainly. "I don't know if that's a good idea..."
"He can be a gentleman and leave," Eames replied, pointedly letting his voice rise in volume. "Or join in. I don't bloody care as long as you keep touching me like that."
She straddled his waist then placed her hands on his chest. Her short nails scratched at his chest lightly, making him sigh in pleasure. Ariadne stroked his chest and face, then leaned down to touch his bound arms. She kissed his mouth, sucking on his lower lip and abrading it lightly with her teeth. His were sharper, so he didn't try to return the gesture. Instead, he let his tongue brush over her lips gently, just enough to make her shiver and shimmy slightly over him. The press of her weight over him coupled with her scent drove him up the wall, and he tried to lift his hips a little to touch her. He was erect within his trousers, and the brush of her leg against him made him growl with need.
Uncertainly, Ariadne looked back toward Arthur, who had remained in the room. He studiously was looking away, jaw clenched tight. She looked back toward Eames and unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the demi cup bra she was wearing. He grinned at her, and made an appreciative noise when she tossed the blouse away and leaned down over his chest again. She rubbed her skin against his, and he could ignore the rippling of the muscle beneath his skin. Moonrise was hours away still, and he could hold it off until then if he had incentive enough to.
She was so involved in this teasing dance that it was startling when Arthur's hand came down over her shoulder. Ariadne gasped and lifted her head from Eames' jaw. "Arthur?"
"It's all right," he said, throat working convulsively. "You don't have to stop just because I'm here. This is the calmest he's been since we got here."
It was odd, having Arthur help her undress Eames, finally cutting his clothes from his body. Eames thought about calling Arthur a kinky bastard but decided that was pushing him too far. It might lead to a fight he couldn't win, not while he was chained up. Eames did snarl at him for helping Ariadne undress, his hands too familiar over the curve of her hip and the sweep of her thigh where it met her sensitive knees.
Arthur kept his eyes on Eames as his hands slid Ariadne's pants down. "So how are we doing this?"
"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, startled.
"I'm not leaving," Arthur said, pulling the pants from Ariadne's ankle. His hand slid across her instep, making her gasp. "So how are we coordinating the three of us?"
Eames found himself laughing in spite of the urge rising to dominate the hell out of Arthur to show him who was boss. "I just need you touching me. I need something, anything, to hold onto, something to focus on." He looked at the flush rising in Ariadne's skin. "Fuck, I want to taste you so badly."
Arthur helped Ariadne climb on top of Eames so that she retained her balance. Though she was embarrassed, she pushed it aside since that was what he seemed to need just then. His tongue curling around her folds felt just as wonderful as before, and she closed her eyes. Eames' mouth was at her sex, probing and licking at her as if he could devour her whole. Arthur had his lips at her shoulder and one hand curled around her breast, her nipple between two fingers. She didn't know where his other hand was, but it wasn't on her body at all. If she had to guess, it would be that Arthur was running his other hand over the planes of Eames' chest and stomach to soothe the rising agitation within him.
Ariadne gasped and panted, one hand clutching Eames' shoulder and the other reaching around Arthur's waist. She bucked her hips against Eames' mouth, whimpering as his tongue lapped and curled around her clit. "Oh, God," she moaned, her head falling back. Arthur kissed her jaw, and captured her mouth with his once she turned her head. He swallowed her cries when she came, body shaking against his.
She felt all loose-limbed and boneless as she slid down Eames' chest to impale herself on his cock. Arthur's other hand had indeed been on Eames' chest, and he sat back on his haunches when she moved. He shed his clothes quickly, his own cock erect and seeping at the tip. He moved to straddle Eames' abdomen and took hold of Ariadne's face to kiss her. She slid her tongue into his mouth and moved one hand down to grasp and pull at his cock, thumb swiping over the wet slit. He groaned into her mouth and shifted his hips in her grasp. Ariadne rocked slowly over Eames, moaning low in her throat. After a moment, Arthur shifted her hand to grasp his ass for balance, and he shifted his hips slightly so that the head of his cock rubbed against her clit on her down strokes. He also slid along Eames' body, making the man groan and tilt his hips up.
"Fuck," Eames said, voice strained. "If I'd known this was possible, I'd've pushed for this ages ago."
Arthur reached back with one hand and scraped his nails across Eames' chest. "Shut up," he said, trying to be forceful. Instead, his voice came out as a strangled groan of pleasure. Ariadne's hands were tight on his ass, pulling him against her as she slid down Eames, teasing him with a bit of her wetness before she rocked backward. When Eames cried out in release, Arthur waited a beat before moving from the bed. He had Ariadne lean forward, her body over Eames' with her ass in the air and his spent cock lying across his stomach. Arthur slid into Ariadne from behind, making her moan deliciously. She kissed Eames, her hands on his shoulders as Arthur pumped into her hard and fast. He didn't last much longer, and came as well.
Eames was lying beneath them, eyes closed and breath shallow and rapid. "Okay?" Ariadne asked, cradling his face gently. It was still only a few hours to moonrise, and she was studiously avoiding thinking about what they had just done.
His eyes were shockingly blue but still his own. "Yeah. It's settled down now." He smiled at her and tilted his head up as far as he could to give her a kiss. "Whatever happens next, I love you."
She hung onto the words when the moon rose and the screaming began.