Even Lovers Drown, 2/4. NC-17
Title: Even Lovers Drown
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames (and all permutations within the trio)
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. Written for the 2013 Reverse Bang in response to piece #203, beautifulweddin's art. Incorporates the inception_kink meme prompt in round 20: Eames has always used forging as his totem. Concerned that Ariadne, new to dreaming, is being taught to rely on something that failed Cobb so miserably (a physical totem of reality), he takes over her tutelage and has her use her ability to fold architecture as hers.
Summary: Ariadne fell in love with dreaming and building, and was determined to stay within the business as best as she could. Falling in love with Arthur and Eames shouldn't have made that more difficult to do.
Prior chapter:
One - The Swimming Lad
Two - Body To Body
They were dreaming. It was obvious because the sky was teal, the beach was made of volcanic glass and the ocean lapping at the smooth black surface created orange foam. There were people milling about, and they looked completely ordinary on the surface. Ariadne didn't look at them closely, feeling the oddity of the sky and ocean like a chill along her spine. Eames hadn't seen limbo, hadn't even wanted to hear about what she had endured when she followed Cobb down to find Fischer. All he had wanted to know was if they could proceed with the job.
Eames had the same relaxed outfit on from his hotel room, and Ariadne saw that she was in a red triangle string bikini top and cutoff jeans. Her hair was stick straight and hung down to her waist, a coronet of daisies wound into a crown on top of her head. Her bare feet were right on the volcanic glass, but it didn't feel any different from ordinary cheap linoleum. Her lips twisted in distaste; she could have made it smooth and cool, pleasing to the soles of feet after walking across hot, grainy sand or sharp, gritty dirt. This was too simple and didn't feel real, not enough detail to hold her interest.
Arthur was dressed in black linen slacks and a collared shirt open at the throat, a black jacket unbuttoned over it. He wore sunglasses on his face and his hair was done up in a near pompadour. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, the end barely lit up enough to form embers. Before he even thought about it, Arthur breathed in deeply so the smoke could curl around in his lungs. He took the cigarette out from his lips and stared at it a moment. Dunhill, the same brand Eames preferred. "Really, Eames?"
"A man can dream, yes?" Eames drawled. "Besides, props can be very important for forging. I do my tricks with mirrors and sleight of hand, and the farther down I go the better the forges can be. We're only one level down, and I made certain to put in obvious differences. There's no mistaking we're dreaming, and there's no risk involved if any of my projections decide they're through with the testing."
All right, it made sense. But Ariadne saw the surf crashing and creating orange foam, and for some reason all she could think of was shooting Mal in the chest and watching her bleed as Cobb cradled her in his arms.
"Start small," Eames advised, a smile curling across his lips as he crossed his arms. "Change your clothes, or simply get rid of them. Or change some feature I put there that you don't like. I tried to give you options."
"You'd love it if I made this top disappear," Ariadne grumbled.
"Of course," Eames agreed with a grin. "Small but perfect. Don't you think so, Arthur?"
Arthur flicked the cigarette at Eames, lips compressed into a thin, unhappy line. "Don't wind us up, Mr. Eames. Why would we want to work with you if you keep doing that?"
Eames heaved a dramatic sigh. "Come on, now. Someone has to take out that stick from up your arse. Unless you'd rather I put something else there?" he teased, skipping back a step when Arthur lunged in his direction. "C'mon, Arthur. Don't tell me you take this shite seriously? Ariadne can tell it's not serious. Why can't you? Unless you wish it was...?"
Ariadne rushed between the two men just as Arthur would have reached Eames. Arthur crashed into her, sending the three of them tumbling down onto the volcanic glass. "Stop, Eames," she said, voice firm and quiet. One hand was pressed against his chest and she pushed against it to try to get up. "Stop. It's not funny, it's cruel to taunt us this way just to get your kicks."
"Is that what you think this is?" Eames asked, looking from her pained expression to Arthur's angry glower.
"What else could it be?" Ariadne asked.
"I'm your favorite target to pick on," Arthur told Eames. "I can take it, but I won't have you picking on Ariadne the same way."
Rather than answer with words, Eames grasped Ariadne by the back of her head and kissed her thoroughly. Arthur made a choked sound and started to roll away, but Eames grasped his shoulder and ended his kiss with Ariadne. Before Arthur could pull away again, Eames kissed him full on the mouth.
"You blind idiot," Eames finally said when the kiss ended. "You stupid, stupid man."
Arthur looked gobsmacked, and Ariadne managed to wriggle her torso out from between them. Eames wouldn't let her get any farther than that. "I don't-" she began uncertainly.
"What? Did you really think love was simply a binary storybook tale?" Eames asked her, brows knit together. "Wait... Of course you did. You haven't been out in the world. And Arthur here wouldn't know any different, if the Cobbs were his model."
Slowly, hesitantly, they disentangled and rose to standing on the volcanic glass again. A number of projections were looking at them curiously, but none were rushing in to attack. Eames was good at suppressing his projections, and he wasn't particularly threatened here. "I wouldn't want to keep you around if I didn't like you. I wouldn't work with you if I couldn't trust you." Each word was carefully enunciated. There was no mistaking his sincerity.
"So now...?" Ariadne began, voice faltering. Eames had laid himself out, and either Ariadne or Arthur could accept or reject him. He was right, this was as much a sign of trust as it was an emotional revelation. She could feel Arthur's eyes on her; he would follow her lead on this, as he said he would at lunch.
Eames remained silent, watching her and occasionally flicking his eyes toward Arthur. Arthur kept his gaze on Ariadne. It all hinged on her, she realized suddenly. This could begin or end with a single word from her. If this wasn't what she wanted, they would all walk away and pretend this never happened, it was only a dream. Nobody really meant it if they were dreaming, it would be easy to gloss over this and try to maintain a working relationship. Maybe it would be prickly and awkward, maybe not.
She licked her lips, drawing a breath. She couldn't let go of Arthur, that was for certain, and she liked Eames a lot. The thought of moving forward without them in her life somehow, even if it was just a boring agency job, made her throat constrict. As terrifying as the prospect of trying to balance them both was, there really wasn't a choice.
Taking a step toward Eames, Ariadne's heart thudded in her chest. It felt like falling off the porch in limbo, that first step that made the air rush past, infinity shattering all around her until she woke up feeling whole again.
"So now," she tried again, voice more sure and steady. "Show us what we need to do to make this work."
Eames moved forward, lips stretching wide into a relieved grin. He caught Ariadne about the waist, pulling her to him as he reached for Arthur with his other arm. "It all depends on your imagination," he murmured, before kissing Arthur again. It was obvious he was the reluctant one here, if only because he had to reconfigure much of what he thought of Eames. He had thought of Eames as deliberately baiting him simply to see if he could, trying to show him up or show off, intending to prove he was better than everyone else.
Arthur pulled back after a moment, Eames' shirt caught in his fist. "You fucking bastard," he growled. "You..."
"Would you have believed me if I said anything earlier? When those idiots were shooting at us all in Prague? Or the subject was flirting with me in Bucharest? Really? Would you have listened to what I was trying to say?"
Looking away was answer enough.
Eames looked over at Ariadne and dropped a kiss onto her forehead before turning back to Arthur. "Remember that job in Florence? That blonde I was in the dream?" Eames' appearance shifted to a lithe blonde woman with a red scarf in hand. He draped his arms around Arthur's shoulders, full lips brushing around the side of his jaw. "Caro mio, stay here with me," Eames purred in a sultry feminine voice, the hand with the scarf brushing across Arthur's chest. His other hand grasped his ass, kneading the flesh a little.
Arthur swallowed unsteadily, then looked back at Ariadne. Obviously, he had thought Eames had simply been fucking with him. Again. This time, he caught the red scarf and pulled it from the blonde's hand. He spun him around and blindfolded him, catching an arm between their bodies. "If you had just said something..."
"Would you have left Cobb for me?" he asked, grinding his ass into Arthur's groin. Ariadne stared, fascinated, feeling almost dirty for watching and getting turned on.
"Could you choose?" Eames continued to purr, grinding against Arthur. He reached out for Ariadne, who grasped his hand without any hesitation. "Would you give yourself a chance to have something glorious before you run away again?"
Arthur groaned, his lips pressed against Eames' cheek. "You ran, too," he accused, hips jerking forward to rub against Eames' ass. "Right into the casinos of Mombasa, and never once looked back to see if we were still alive."
"I knew you could handle yourself, darling. Roberto's guards were next to useless."
Feeling bold, Ariadne moved closer. She let go of Eames' hand to run it down Arthur's back, and slid her other hand along Eames' stomach. It was odd to feel a woman's body and know it was really Eames underneath the forgery. There was no way she could build a construct that well around herself; her image of herself was too strong to really shift, even in a dream.
Eames purred, caught between the two of them. She leaned in, Eames' arm rubbing against her breasts, and kissed Arthur's shoulder. He turned and ducked his head down so their mouths could meet, her tongue darting out to taste him. Eames made a soft, pleased sound, his body shifting to feel more of them. Arthur let go of him and the scarf. It fell to the ground, forgotten, and Eames stayed in this female form to kiss Arthur and then Ariadne.
Maybe because it was a dream and didn't carry the same weight as reality did, Ariadne wasn't as troubled by the sight of Arthur and Eames kissing, by the insistent way Eames tugged Arthur down to the glass ground and beckoned for Ariadne to join them. "No one gets left out, hm?" he purred, shimmying out of the dress he had dreamed up. "Shall I stay this way?" Eames asked, lips quirked into a teasing smile. "Want to fuck me as both a man and a woman?"
"Yeah," Ariadne blurted before she could chicken out. "Let's do that."
Clothes disappeared with a mere thought, and Ariadne was already damp with arousal at the sight of Arthur's naked body. Eames in female form didn't turn her on, but she still touched him out of curiosity. He grinned and moaned when Arthur mouthed his breasts and fingered the wet cleft between his legs. Ariadne distantly wondered how sex would actually function with the forge, but Eames pulled her down for a searing kiss. It blotted out all thought and left her drowning in the sensation of his lips on hers, her hair caught in his hand and the smooth expanse of skin beneath her palm as she knelt beside his sprawled form.
Being a little more practiced in dream sex at this point, Ariadne knew it didn't have to take forever for her to get wet. She was practically dripping when she broke the kiss to breathe, so she brought Eames' free hand to her groin. He obligingly slid his fingers through her folds, filling and stretching her. Arthur shifted position, kneeling between Eames' spread thighs. He touched them gently, tracing lines into the sensitive skin until Eames groaned. Ariadne looked at the glistening peaked nipple and bent her head to lick and suck at it. Now Eames arched up and reached out for Arthur with his other hand. "Fuck me, Arthur. I'll beg if I need to, just fuck me hard and fast."
"But..."
"It's a dream, Arthur," Eames nearly growled, his own voice bleeding through the forge's dulcet tones. "It's only in the real world that you'd need to prep me first." He reached down to grasp Arthur's wrist, guiding his fingers to the wet slit. "I'm wet for you, darling, aching for that lovely cock you're not giving me." Eames grinned at Arthur, licking those full lips. "Show me what you've got. I've dreamed of this."
"You have?" he asked, disbelief in his tone. He still shifted position, feeling Eames' female body from the inside out and watching him squirm in response.
"Of course. That arse you've got? That mouth? Of course I have," Eames replied, fingers still buried deeply inside of Ariadne. "They taunt me as much as Ariadne's does."
Arthur positioned himself at Eames' entrance and thrust in, as if he had needed to hear that as proof Eames wasn't simply fucking with him. Eames groaned again at the sensation, the rhythm he had set with Ariadne stuttering a bit. She shifted her focus from his breast to his mouth, swallowing down the sounds he made. Ariadne grasped one breast, rubbing the nipple the way she liked to tease herself. He made another delicious whimpering sound, which shot straight to her groin. She tightened around his fingers, close to orgasm herself. She arched up and away from Eames when she came, pleasure flooding her completely.
Lying beside Eames when she collapsed, Ariadne watched Arthur fuck him. He had his lower lip caught between his teeth, his hands tight on Eames' thighs as he bore down hard and fast. Eames was panting, one hand scrabbling at the volcanic glass and the other caught between Ariadne's. He let out a louder groan before Arthur's hips finally jerked, and Ariadne watched Eames' eyelids flutter as he came down from the high. Arthur let go of Eames' thighs and rested them on the glass, leaning his weight there. Ariadne moved to drop a kiss onto his forearm, so Arthur turned to look at her, lips curled in that special smile he had for her.
After Arthur withdrew and knelt beside them on the glass, Eames let the forge drop. He moved so that on hands and knees, he loomed over Ariadne's sprawled body. "I want to feel you around my cock now." He turned and shot Arthur a playful smile. "Take me again if you can, Arthur. I'd be interested in knowing which version of me you prefer."
"The one that's quiet," Arthur snarked, making Ariadne laugh. Eames did as well, and his touch was gentle when he positioned Ariadne beneath him. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of him inside her, his large hands splayed across her stomach as he stroked the skin. She didn't see Arthur push into Eames' body, but she felt the added pressure of his thrust into her.
"Harder," she whispered, reaching for Eames. He obliged her, going hard and fast and grunting with the effort above her. She could hear Arthur making his own soft noises of pleasure behind him, and she cupped her own breasts and pinched her nipples. "Just like that," she breathed, arching up a little. She was close, so close, it was so easy in the dream, hardly any effort at all, and all it took was a little more pleasure to tip her over the edge.
And then the timer ran out.
***
"You can stay here with me," Eames said, sliding his palm along Ariadne's ankle. She and Arthur had been on the bed, the PASIV on the nightstand and Eames across from them in the armchair. He had woken first, and now he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, watching with heavily lidded eyes as Arthur gently removed the needles from her wrist. "There's enough room on the bed and I'm booked through the end of the week."
"And after?" Arthur asked, voice cool and neutral. His eyes flicked to Eames' earnest expression, then to Ariadne's fascinated one.
Eames merely smiled broadly. "Depends on what you want. A job or downtime, or walking away and never looking back. Though I don't think you'd leave, would you? Not after this."
"Do you really think that of us?" Arthur asked, brows knit as he contemplated Eames.
"Of course not. You're not that kind. Neither is our darling Ariadne."
No, she wasn't. She was in the thick of it now, caught between these two men and the desire to stay in dream share, build impossible worlds and see forbidden secrets unfold in front of her. It was intoxicating, and there was no going back to the innocent life she had lived before Cobb found her in Paris.
"We said we're in," Ariadne said, voice firm. "So show us what we need to do."
***
Arthur and Ariadne were both terrible at forgery. Arthur kept frowning at his hands, but his fingernails didn't suddenly grow or turn colors. Then he tried to change the color of his tie or the pocket square in his suit jacket. Then he tried changing the cufflink shape or the tie clip, and nothing happened when he tried to change his eye color. Ariadne tried to make the ragged cuticles and bitten edges of her nails smooth. Her curling hair refused to stay straight and her eyes remained golden brown. She almost got freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, but they disappeared within an eye blink. Her scarves remained the same color and her cardigan buttons didn't ever change shape. She never changed height, and her chest didn't get bigger. Arthur was quick to reassure her that he adored her body as it was, which made her laugh and Eames roll his eyes in amusement.
"This isn't working," Ariadne said with a sigh, yanking the needles from her wrist. It stung more than she had expected, and she winced. "Look, forgery isn't our thing. We're trying to force it, but that's just not working."
"I can extend my stay," Eames said, not perturbed in the slightest. He had another day left on his hotel room at this point. They had made repeated drops into dreaming, and it hadn't mattered if they remained in a one level dream or if Eames worked with them one at a time on a second level dream. Neither could shift their shapes with forgery. "Your senses of self are too strong. Not a bad thing, ordinarily. But this means that it's not an option to replace your totems."
She watched as he slid his hand along her waist and leaned in for a kiss. Ariadne tilted her face up toward his and gave him a gentle peck on the lips. "So then what?"
"We play to your strengths."
Arthur leaned in, his hand sliding between Eames' shoulder blades. He dropped his chin onto Eames' shoulder and looked at Ariadne. "Or is it the somnacin? This isn't government grade, but sometimes the local suppliers don't have good compounds."
"I got these from Yusuf," Eames told them. "He didn't ask what I needed it for," he said at Ariadne's questioning look. "He never asks that kind of question, and he's been my supplier for years. Quiet and punctual, exactly what you need in a chemist. He went right back home after an ordinary nap, though. LA isn't his kind of town. He only agreed to the job because he wanted to see a bit of Paris."
"It is beautiful there," Ariadne agreed with a warm smile. "It's why I wanted to go to school there."
"You can't miss more school. It's bad enough this wasn't a real internship..."
"I have my models and sketches. I'm going to present them as work the firm decided to reject. My professors won't question that. It happens all the time in firms. Junior members rarely get their work built."
"Which is why you want to dream so much," Arthur said, the words more like a sigh. There was no dislodging Ariadne from this life. She was getting deeper and deeper into it, and he could see the desire in her eyes when she looked at the PASIV.
"When exactly do you need to be back?" Eames asked, concerned. He tapped the pack of Dunhills in his hand, shaking them loose inside the package. He wouldn't light it up right then; Ariadne had always been vocal about her distaste for the habit, but Eames enjoyed the push and pull of the smoke through his lips, knowing that every breath was dangerous. He liked playing with all kinds of fire.
"One more week."
He and Arthur had known that, of course, but it was still polite to ask. "This can wait until after your thesis, you know. You'll need to prepare for that."
"I'm not worried about it." Ariadne's entire demeanor was one of confidence, which seemed to ease Arthur's state of mind a bit.
"I'll look for a job for us, then," Arthur offered. "Something small, easy. There will be plenty of time to practice creating another totem."
Ariadne smiled at him, nodding. "I'll need to, I'm sure. No offense, Eames, but forging sucks. I'd much rather twist a dream into pretzel shapes, but that isn't a good option either. I don't know what else we would use other than totems."
"I'm sure what you need will come to you in a dream," Eames said, grinning at her.
Snorting, Ariadne threw one of the pillows from the bed at him. The only thing that came to mind was the way his mouth felt on the inside of her thighs or how full she felt when he was inside her. His touch felt different from Arthur's, but no less reverent. He and Arthur took turns with her in the dream and it had spilled over into real life a few times. She could still feel the ache and stretch in her thighs, and she didn't want that to go away. Ariadne pulled Arthur in for a kiss, since he was sitting closer to her. "Visit me in Paris?" she asked, though it was directed at both men.
"Of course," Arthur promised.
Eames laughed. "As if there was any doubt."
There really hadn't been.
***
There was a bouquet on Ariadne's coffee table when she returned from defending her thesis. She wouldn't have official results for some time yet, but she had a good feeling about the process. Some of her friends had invited her out for drinks to celebrate being done. It felt strange to spend time with them again; it felt like forever since she had been a student, and her life had changed dramatically in ways impossible to explain. Ariadne was glad to see them, to be reminded of the future she might have chosen if she never met Dom Cobb. The reminder solidified her choice, so she could tell Arthur she did indeed know what she was giving up by staying in dream share.
The card with the flowers had an address in Mombasa and a key taped to it. "I don't get it," she said aloud.
"Of course you do, darling," Eames called out from her kitchen. He had been sitting there in the dim light, drinking a cup of tea and smoking his Dunhills. "You just need to think about it."
She looked from the address and key to his pleased expression. "There's no point in asking how you got in here, is there?" Eames merely smirked, so she shook her head. "This is yours," she said finally, knowing it to be true.
"My home. Not a safe house, but my home," he confirmed.
Ariadne's breath caught and she went to his side. That was an important gift, one she immediately understood when he stressed home. Her lips parted into an O shape, and she clutched the card in her fist. "Eames."
"I don't just give those away, you realize," he said as she approached him. He blew out a lungful of smoke as she neared, angling it away from her. "You are in elite company, darling girl."
She straddled him, tasting cigarettes on his tongue when she kissed him. Melting into his embrace, she felt as if she was lit up from within. Her love was a bright light or a fire, or whatever other description it carried in poetry or love songs. It was the kind of sensation where everything was better and brighter, the frustrations of the world no longer mattering.
Pushing Eames' clothes out of the way was a bit awkward, but they shimmied until Eames' cock could spring free of his trousers. Ariadne had to climb down to kick off her corduroys and panties, but that let him adjust himself on the chair as well. She was about to say "This is stupid" while climbing back up, but Eames caught her hips in his hands and helped her slide into position above him. The words transformed into a contented sigh at the feel of him, and he helped her establish a rhythm as she rocked back and forth. Ariadne held onto his shoulders tightly, gaze locked with his. "I was hoping you'd visit before," she admitted, managing to gasp the words out.
"Had to get the key made," Eames replied, tilting his hips a little to make her down stroke a little deeper. "I don't think you needed this kind of distraction."
"I had Arthur to distract me," Ariadne informed him.
"Lucky Arthur," Eames said, pulling her down for a kiss.
Making a little pleased humming noises, Ariadne moved faster, nearly grinding her clit into his pubic bone. Eames tightened his grip on her, the pleasure getting to be too much for him. She kept going, even after he hissed from being oversensitive. He reached between their bodies and tried to rub her clit harder. "Come on, Ariadne," he groaned, teeth grit together. The pleasure was too much, almost painful, but he wasn't about to stop her just yet.
"Just a little more," she panted, throwing her head back as her eyes closed. "A little more..."
Eames made a soft frustrated noise, but he kept working at her until she came, shivering in his arms. For a minute, Ariadne remained curled around him, trying to catch her breath. "There you go," he murmured, breathing heavily.
"Yeah. I kinda take a while to get there."
"Worth the effort," he said, kissing the rise of her chest. He looked up at Ariadne, a slow smile on his face. "Let's see if I can do better this time around, hm?"
"Better?"
"Have you come faster," Eames drawled. She knew that he enjoyed reducing her to a pile of quivering flesh unable to speak. All together in LA, he had started a competition with Arthur to see if he could do it faster. Ariadne and Arthur never kept track of that, much to Eames' amusement at the time. "Besides, I found your drawer of toys. You naughty minx, you. I want to use them on you."
"Eames..."
He snickered, moving to kiss her neck. "When did you last speak with Arthur?"
"Three days ago, why?"
"I believe Arthur found a job," Eames murmured, nibbling at her jaw. "He's in Dublin at the mo', and we can join him at any time. He's still in the information gathering stage. I'd be extractor, you are our architect. Just the three of us, nice and cozy."
"Yes," Ariadne said, not needing to think about it at all. Wherever they were, there she would be.
***
***
To Chapter Three - Plunging Down
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames (and all permutations within the trio)
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. Written for the 2013 Reverse Bang in response to piece #203, beautifulweddin's art. Incorporates the inception_kink meme prompt in round 20: Eames has always used forging as his totem. Concerned that Ariadne, new to dreaming, is being taught to rely on something that failed Cobb so miserably (a physical totem of reality), he takes over her tutelage and has her use her ability to fold architecture as hers.
Summary: Ariadne fell in love with dreaming and building, and was determined to stay within the business as best as she could. Falling in love with Arthur and Eames shouldn't have made that more difficult to do.
Prior chapter:
One - The Swimming Lad
Two - Body To Body
They were dreaming. It was obvious because the sky was teal, the beach was made of volcanic glass and the ocean lapping at the smooth black surface created orange foam. There were people milling about, and they looked completely ordinary on the surface. Ariadne didn't look at them closely, feeling the oddity of the sky and ocean like a chill along her spine. Eames hadn't seen limbo, hadn't even wanted to hear about what she had endured when she followed Cobb down to find Fischer. All he had wanted to know was if they could proceed with the job.
Eames had the same relaxed outfit on from his hotel room, and Ariadne saw that she was in a red triangle string bikini top and cutoff jeans. Her hair was stick straight and hung down to her waist, a coronet of daisies wound into a crown on top of her head. Her bare feet were right on the volcanic glass, but it didn't feel any different from ordinary cheap linoleum. Her lips twisted in distaste; she could have made it smooth and cool, pleasing to the soles of feet after walking across hot, grainy sand or sharp, gritty dirt. This was too simple and didn't feel real, not enough detail to hold her interest.
Arthur was dressed in black linen slacks and a collared shirt open at the throat, a black jacket unbuttoned over it. He wore sunglasses on his face and his hair was done up in a near pompadour. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, the end barely lit up enough to form embers. Before he even thought about it, Arthur breathed in deeply so the smoke could curl around in his lungs. He took the cigarette out from his lips and stared at it a moment. Dunhill, the same brand Eames preferred. "Really, Eames?"
"A man can dream, yes?" Eames drawled. "Besides, props can be very important for forging. I do my tricks with mirrors and sleight of hand, and the farther down I go the better the forges can be. We're only one level down, and I made certain to put in obvious differences. There's no mistaking we're dreaming, and there's no risk involved if any of my projections decide they're through with the testing."
All right, it made sense. But Ariadne saw the surf crashing and creating orange foam, and for some reason all she could think of was shooting Mal in the chest and watching her bleed as Cobb cradled her in his arms.
"Start small," Eames advised, a smile curling across his lips as he crossed his arms. "Change your clothes, or simply get rid of them. Or change some feature I put there that you don't like. I tried to give you options."
"You'd love it if I made this top disappear," Ariadne grumbled.
"Of course," Eames agreed with a grin. "Small but perfect. Don't you think so, Arthur?"
Arthur flicked the cigarette at Eames, lips compressed into a thin, unhappy line. "Don't wind us up, Mr. Eames. Why would we want to work with you if you keep doing that?"
Eames heaved a dramatic sigh. "Come on, now. Someone has to take out that stick from up your arse. Unless you'd rather I put something else there?" he teased, skipping back a step when Arthur lunged in his direction. "C'mon, Arthur. Don't tell me you take this shite seriously? Ariadne can tell it's not serious. Why can't you? Unless you wish it was...?"
Ariadne rushed between the two men just as Arthur would have reached Eames. Arthur crashed into her, sending the three of them tumbling down onto the volcanic glass. "Stop, Eames," she said, voice firm and quiet. One hand was pressed against his chest and she pushed against it to try to get up. "Stop. It's not funny, it's cruel to taunt us this way just to get your kicks."
"Is that what you think this is?" Eames asked, looking from her pained expression to Arthur's angry glower.
"What else could it be?" Ariadne asked.
"I'm your favorite target to pick on," Arthur told Eames. "I can take it, but I won't have you picking on Ariadne the same way."
Rather than answer with words, Eames grasped Ariadne by the back of her head and kissed her thoroughly. Arthur made a choked sound and started to roll away, but Eames grasped his shoulder and ended his kiss with Ariadne. Before Arthur could pull away again, Eames kissed him full on the mouth.
"You blind idiot," Eames finally said when the kiss ended. "You stupid, stupid man."
Arthur looked gobsmacked, and Ariadne managed to wriggle her torso out from between them. Eames wouldn't let her get any farther than that. "I don't-" she began uncertainly.
"What? Did you really think love was simply a binary storybook tale?" Eames asked her, brows knit together. "Wait... Of course you did. You haven't been out in the world. And Arthur here wouldn't know any different, if the Cobbs were his model."
Slowly, hesitantly, they disentangled and rose to standing on the volcanic glass again. A number of projections were looking at them curiously, but none were rushing in to attack. Eames was good at suppressing his projections, and he wasn't particularly threatened here. "I wouldn't want to keep you around if I didn't like you. I wouldn't work with you if I couldn't trust you." Each word was carefully enunciated. There was no mistaking his sincerity.
"So now...?" Ariadne began, voice faltering. Eames had laid himself out, and either Ariadne or Arthur could accept or reject him. He was right, this was as much a sign of trust as it was an emotional revelation. She could feel Arthur's eyes on her; he would follow her lead on this, as he said he would at lunch.
Eames remained silent, watching her and occasionally flicking his eyes toward Arthur. Arthur kept his gaze on Ariadne. It all hinged on her, she realized suddenly. This could begin or end with a single word from her. If this wasn't what she wanted, they would all walk away and pretend this never happened, it was only a dream. Nobody really meant it if they were dreaming, it would be easy to gloss over this and try to maintain a working relationship. Maybe it would be prickly and awkward, maybe not.
She licked her lips, drawing a breath. She couldn't let go of Arthur, that was for certain, and she liked Eames a lot. The thought of moving forward without them in her life somehow, even if it was just a boring agency job, made her throat constrict. As terrifying as the prospect of trying to balance them both was, there really wasn't a choice.
Taking a step toward Eames, Ariadne's heart thudded in her chest. It felt like falling off the porch in limbo, that first step that made the air rush past, infinity shattering all around her until she woke up feeling whole again.
"So now," she tried again, voice more sure and steady. "Show us what we need to do to make this work."
Eames moved forward, lips stretching wide into a relieved grin. He caught Ariadne about the waist, pulling her to him as he reached for Arthur with his other arm. "It all depends on your imagination," he murmured, before kissing Arthur again. It was obvious he was the reluctant one here, if only because he had to reconfigure much of what he thought of Eames. He had thought of Eames as deliberately baiting him simply to see if he could, trying to show him up or show off, intending to prove he was better than everyone else.
Arthur pulled back after a moment, Eames' shirt caught in his fist. "You fucking bastard," he growled. "You..."
"Would you have believed me if I said anything earlier? When those idiots were shooting at us all in Prague? Or the subject was flirting with me in Bucharest? Really? Would you have listened to what I was trying to say?"
Looking away was answer enough.
Eames looked over at Ariadne and dropped a kiss onto her forehead before turning back to Arthur. "Remember that job in Florence? That blonde I was in the dream?" Eames' appearance shifted to a lithe blonde woman with a red scarf in hand. He draped his arms around Arthur's shoulders, full lips brushing around the side of his jaw. "Caro mio, stay here with me," Eames purred in a sultry feminine voice, the hand with the scarf brushing across Arthur's chest. His other hand grasped his ass, kneading the flesh a little.
Arthur swallowed unsteadily, then looked back at Ariadne. Obviously, he had thought Eames had simply been fucking with him. Again. This time, he caught the red scarf and pulled it from the blonde's hand. He spun him around and blindfolded him, catching an arm between their bodies. "If you had just said something..."
"Would you have left Cobb for me?" he asked, grinding his ass into Arthur's groin. Ariadne stared, fascinated, feeling almost dirty for watching and getting turned on.
"Could you choose?" Eames continued to purr, grinding against Arthur. He reached out for Ariadne, who grasped his hand without any hesitation. "Would you give yourself a chance to have something glorious before you run away again?"
Arthur groaned, his lips pressed against Eames' cheek. "You ran, too," he accused, hips jerking forward to rub against Eames' ass. "Right into the casinos of Mombasa, and never once looked back to see if we were still alive."
"I knew you could handle yourself, darling. Roberto's guards were next to useless."
Feeling bold, Ariadne moved closer. She let go of Eames' hand to run it down Arthur's back, and slid her other hand along Eames' stomach. It was odd to feel a woman's body and know it was really Eames underneath the forgery. There was no way she could build a construct that well around herself; her image of herself was too strong to really shift, even in a dream.
Eames purred, caught between the two of them. She leaned in, Eames' arm rubbing against her breasts, and kissed Arthur's shoulder. He turned and ducked his head down so their mouths could meet, her tongue darting out to taste him. Eames made a soft, pleased sound, his body shifting to feel more of them. Arthur let go of him and the scarf. It fell to the ground, forgotten, and Eames stayed in this female form to kiss Arthur and then Ariadne.
Maybe because it was a dream and didn't carry the same weight as reality did, Ariadne wasn't as troubled by the sight of Arthur and Eames kissing, by the insistent way Eames tugged Arthur down to the glass ground and beckoned for Ariadne to join them. "No one gets left out, hm?" he purred, shimmying out of the dress he had dreamed up. "Shall I stay this way?" Eames asked, lips quirked into a teasing smile. "Want to fuck me as both a man and a woman?"
"Yeah," Ariadne blurted before she could chicken out. "Let's do that."
Clothes disappeared with a mere thought, and Ariadne was already damp with arousal at the sight of Arthur's naked body. Eames in female form didn't turn her on, but she still touched him out of curiosity. He grinned and moaned when Arthur mouthed his breasts and fingered the wet cleft between his legs. Ariadne distantly wondered how sex would actually function with the forge, but Eames pulled her down for a searing kiss. It blotted out all thought and left her drowning in the sensation of his lips on hers, her hair caught in his hand and the smooth expanse of skin beneath her palm as she knelt beside his sprawled form.
Being a little more practiced in dream sex at this point, Ariadne knew it didn't have to take forever for her to get wet. She was practically dripping when she broke the kiss to breathe, so she brought Eames' free hand to her groin. He obligingly slid his fingers through her folds, filling and stretching her. Arthur shifted position, kneeling between Eames' spread thighs. He touched them gently, tracing lines into the sensitive skin until Eames groaned. Ariadne looked at the glistening peaked nipple and bent her head to lick and suck at it. Now Eames arched up and reached out for Arthur with his other hand. "Fuck me, Arthur. I'll beg if I need to, just fuck me hard and fast."
"But..."
"It's a dream, Arthur," Eames nearly growled, his own voice bleeding through the forge's dulcet tones. "It's only in the real world that you'd need to prep me first." He reached down to grasp Arthur's wrist, guiding his fingers to the wet slit. "I'm wet for you, darling, aching for that lovely cock you're not giving me." Eames grinned at Arthur, licking those full lips. "Show me what you've got. I've dreamed of this."
"You have?" he asked, disbelief in his tone. He still shifted position, feeling Eames' female body from the inside out and watching him squirm in response.
"Of course. That arse you've got? That mouth? Of course I have," Eames replied, fingers still buried deeply inside of Ariadne. "They taunt me as much as Ariadne's does."
Arthur positioned himself at Eames' entrance and thrust in, as if he had needed to hear that as proof Eames wasn't simply fucking with him. Eames groaned again at the sensation, the rhythm he had set with Ariadne stuttering a bit. She shifted her focus from his breast to his mouth, swallowing down the sounds he made. Ariadne grasped one breast, rubbing the nipple the way she liked to tease herself. He made another delicious whimpering sound, which shot straight to her groin. She tightened around his fingers, close to orgasm herself. She arched up and away from Eames when she came, pleasure flooding her completely.
Lying beside Eames when she collapsed, Ariadne watched Arthur fuck him. He had his lower lip caught between his teeth, his hands tight on Eames' thighs as he bore down hard and fast. Eames was panting, one hand scrabbling at the volcanic glass and the other caught between Ariadne's. He let out a louder groan before Arthur's hips finally jerked, and Ariadne watched Eames' eyelids flutter as he came down from the high. Arthur let go of Eames' thighs and rested them on the glass, leaning his weight there. Ariadne moved to drop a kiss onto his forearm, so Arthur turned to look at her, lips curled in that special smile he had for her.
After Arthur withdrew and knelt beside them on the glass, Eames let the forge drop. He moved so that on hands and knees, he loomed over Ariadne's sprawled body. "I want to feel you around my cock now." He turned and shot Arthur a playful smile. "Take me again if you can, Arthur. I'd be interested in knowing which version of me you prefer."
"The one that's quiet," Arthur snarked, making Ariadne laugh. Eames did as well, and his touch was gentle when he positioned Ariadne beneath him. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of him inside her, his large hands splayed across her stomach as he stroked the skin. She didn't see Arthur push into Eames' body, but she felt the added pressure of his thrust into her.
"Harder," she whispered, reaching for Eames. He obliged her, going hard and fast and grunting with the effort above her. She could hear Arthur making his own soft noises of pleasure behind him, and she cupped her own breasts and pinched her nipples. "Just like that," she breathed, arching up a little. She was close, so close, it was so easy in the dream, hardly any effort at all, and all it took was a little more pleasure to tip her over the edge.
And then the timer ran out.
***
"You can stay here with me," Eames said, sliding his palm along Ariadne's ankle. She and Arthur had been on the bed, the PASIV on the nightstand and Eames across from them in the armchair. He had woken first, and now he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, watching with heavily lidded eyes as Arthur gently removed the needles from her wrist. "There's enough room on the bed and I'm booked through the end of the week."
"And after?" Arthur asked, voice cool and neutral. His eyes flicked to Eames' earnest expression, then to Ariadne's fascinated one.
Eames merely smiled broadly. "Depends on what you want. A job or downtime, or walking away and never looking back. Though I don't think you'd leave, would you? Not after this."
"Do you really think that of us?" Arthur asked, brows knit as he contemplated Eames.
"Of course not. You're not that kind. Neither is our darling Ariadne."
No, she wasn't. She was in the thick of it now, caught between these two men and the desire to stay in dream share, build impossible worlds and see forbidden secrets unfold in front of her. It was intoxicating, and there was no going back to the innocent life she had lived before Cobb found her in Paris.
"We said we're in," Ariadne said, voice firm. "So show us what we need to do."
***
Arthur and Ariadne were both terrible at forgery. Arthur kept frowning at his hands, but his fingernails didn't suddenly grow or turn colors. Then he tried to change the color of his tie or the pocket square in his suit jacket. Then he tried changing the cufflink shape or the tie clip, and nothing happened when he tried to change his eye color. Ariadne tried to make the ragged cuticles and bitten edges of her nails smooth. Her curling hair refused to stay straight and her eyes remained golden brown. She almost got freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, but they disappeared within an eye blink. Her scarves remained the same color and her cardigan buttons didn't ever change shape. She never changed height, and her chest didn't get bigger. Arthur was quick to reassure her that he adored her body as it was, which made her laugh and Eames roll his eyes in amusement.
"This isn't working," Ariadne said with a sigh, yanking the needles from her wrist. It stung more than she had expected, and she winced. "Look, forgery isn't our thing. We're trying to force it, but that's just not working."
"I can extend my stay," Eames said, not perturbed in the slightest. He had another day left on his hotel room at this point. They had made repeated drops into dreaming, and it hadn't mattered if they remained in a one level dream or if Eames worked with them one at a time on a second level dream. Neither could shift their shapes with forgery. "Your senses of self are too strong. Not a bad thing, ordinarily. But this means that it's not an option to replace your totems."
She watched as he slid his hand along her waist and leaned in for a kiss. Ariadne tilted her face up toward his and gave him a gentle peck on the lips. "So then what?"
"We play to your strengths."
Arthur leaned in, his hand sliding between Eames' shoulder blades. He dropped his chin onto Eames' shoulder and looked at Ariadne. "Or is it the somnacin? This isn't government grade, but sometimes the local suppliers don't have good compounds."
"I got these from Yusuf," Eames told them. "He didn't ask what I needed it for," he said at Ariadne's questioning look. "He never asks that kind of question, and he's been my supplier for years. Quiet and punctual, exactly what you need in a chemist. He went right back home after an ordinary nap, though. LA isn't his kind of town. He only agreed to the job because he wanted to see a bit of Paris."
"It is beautiful there," Ariadne agreed with a warm smile. "It's why I wanted to go to school there."
"You can't miss more school. It's bad enough this wasn't a real internship..."
"I have my models and sketches. I'm going to present them as work the firm decided to reject. My professors won't question that. It happens all the time in firms. Junior members rarely get their work built."
"Which is why you want to dream so much," Arthur said, the words more like a sigh. There was no dislodging Ariadne from this life. She was getting deeper and deeper into it, and he could see the desire in her eyes when she looked at the PASIV.
"When exactly do you need to be back?" Eames asked, concerned. He tapped the pack of Dunhills in his hand, shaking them loose inside the package. He wouldn't light it up right then; Ariadne had always been vocal about her distaste for the habit, but Eames enjoyed the push and pull of the smoke through his lips, knowing that every breath was dangerous. He liked playing with all kinds of fire.
"One more week."
He and Arthur had known that, of course, but it was still polite to ask. "This can wait until after your thesis, you know. You'll need to prepare for that."
"I'm not worried about it." Ariadne's entire demeanor was one of confidence, which seemed to ease Arthur's state of mind a bit.
"I'll look for a job for us, then," Arthur offered. "Something small, easy. There will be plenty of time to practice creating another totem."
Ariadne smiled at him, nodding. "I'll need to, I'm sure. No offense, Eames, but forging sucks. I'd much rather twist a dream into pretzel shapes, but that isn't a good option either. I don't know what else we would use other than totems."
"I'm sure what you need will come to you in a dream," Eames said, grinning at her.
Snorting, Ariadne threw one of the pillows from the bed at him. The only thing that came to mind was the way his mouth felt on the inside of her thighs or how full she felt when he was inside her. His touch felt different from Arthur's, but no less reverent. He and Arthur took turns with her in the dream and it had spilled over into real life a few times. She could still feel the ache and stretch in her thighs, and she didn't want that to go away. Ariadne pulled Arthur in for a kiss, since he was sitting closer to her. "Visit me in Paris?" she asked, though it was directed at both men.
"Of course," Arthur promised.
Eames laughed. "As if there was any doubt."
There really hadn't been.
***
There was a bouquet on Ariadne's coffee table when she returned from defending her thesis. She wouldn't have official results for some time yet, but she had a good feeling about the process. Some of her friends had invited her out for drinks to celebrate being done. It felt strange to spend time with them again; it felt like forever since she had been a student, and her life had changed dramatically in ways impossible to explain. Ariadne was glad to see them, to be reminded of the future she might have chosen if she never met Dom Cobb. The reminder solidified her choice, so she could tell Arthur she did indeed know what she was giving up by staying in dream share.
The card with the flowers had an address in Mombasa and a key taped to it. "I don't get it," she said aloud.
"Of course you do, darling," Eames called out from her kitchen. He had been sitting there in the dim light, drinking a cup of tea and smoking his Dunhills. "You just need to think about it."
She looked from the address and key to his pleased expression. "There's no point in asking how you got in here, is there?" Eames merely smirked, so she shook her head. "This is yours," she said finally, knowing it to be true.
"My home. Not a safe house, but my home," he confirmed.
Ariadne's breath caught and she went to his side. That was an important gift, one she immediately understood when he stressed home. Her lips parted into an O shape, and she clutched the card in her fist. "Eames."
"I don't just give those away, you realize," he said as she approached him. He blew out a lungful of smoke as she neared, angling it away from her. "You are in elite company, darling girl."
She straddled him, tasting cigarettes on his tongue when she kissed him. Melting into his embrace, she felt as if she was lit up from within. Her love was a bright light or a fire, or whatever other description it carried in poetry or love songs. It was the kind of sensation where everything was better and brighter, the frustrations of the world no longer mattering.
Pushing Eames' clothes out of the way was a bit awkward, but they shimmied until Eames' cock could spring free of his trousers. Ariadne had to climb down to kick off her corduroys and panties, but that let him adjust himself on the chair as well. She was about to say "This is stupid" while climbing back up, but Eames caught her hips in his hands and helped her slide into position above him. The words transformed into a contented sigh at the feel of him, and he helped her establish a rhythm as she rocked back and forth. Ariadne held onto his shoulders tightly, gaze locked with his. "I was hoping you'd visit before," she admitted, managing to gasp the words out.
"Had to get the key made," Eames replied, tilting his hips a little to make her down stroke a little deeper. "I don't think you needed this kind of distraction."
"I had Arthur to distract me," Ariadne informed him.
"Lucky Arthur," Eames said, pulling her down for a kiss.
Making a little pleased humming noises, Ariadne moved faster, nearly grinding her clit into his pubic bone. Eames tightened his grip on her, the pleasure getting to be too much for him. She kept going, even after he hissed from being oversensitive. He reached between their bodies and tried to rub her clit harder. "Come on, Ariadne," he groaned, teeth grit together. The pleasure was too much, almost painful, but he wasn't about to stop her just yet.
"Just a little more," she panted, throwing her head back as her eyes closed. "A little more..."
Eames made a soft frustrated noise, but he kept working at her until she came, shivering in his arms. For a minute, Ariadne remained curled around him, trying to catch her breath. "There you go," he murmured, breathing heavily.
"Yeah. I kinda take a while to get there."
"Worth the effort," he said, kissing the rise of her chest. He looked up at Ariadne, a slow smile on his face. "Let's see if I can do better this time around, hm?"
"Better?"
"Have you come faster," Eames drawled. She knew that he enjoyed reducing her to a pile of quivering flesh unable to speak. All together in LA, he had started a competition with Arthur to see if he could do it faster. Ariadne and Arthur never kept track of that, much to Eames' amusement at the time. "Besides, I found your drawer of toys. You naughty minx, you. I want to use them on you."
"Eames..."
He snickered, moving to kiss her neck. "When did you last speak with Arthur?"
"Three days ago, why?"
"I believe Arthur found a job," Eames murmured, nibbling at her jaw. "He's in Dublin at the mo', and we can join him at any time. He's still in the information gathering stage. I'd be extractor, you are our architect. Just the three of us, nice and cozy."
"Yes," Ariadne said, not needing to think about it at all. Wherever they were, there she would be.
***
***
To Chapter Three - Plunging Down