When Size Matters - Inception - Cobb/Eames
Title: When Size Matters
Pairing: Cobb/Eames
Word Count: 1840
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for a prompt on inception_kink for cobb_eames's Prompt Filling Friday.
Summary: Cobb has a size kink, and can't stop thinking about Eames.
He isn't thinking about it.
He is chewing at the end of his pen, trying very hard not to stare at the bulge in Eames's trousers, but he is not thinking about it.
'It' being something along the lines of crawling right over there to take Eames's cock in his mouth, to suck at it until it makes him gag, until his jaw aches and he can hardly breathe and Eames loses control, really loses it, and starts to fuck his face, leaving Cobb in gasping, desperate pain. He's not thinking about that. Really.
But he is not thinking about it a lot.
"Cobb," Arthur says, and it causes Cobb's gaze to jerk away, back towards reality, back towards the job. His mouth is wet. He swallows and tries to focus on what is actually important. "Are you alright?"
Nodding without saying a word, he pretends not to notice the concern that colours his friend's eyes; this isn't something that anyone else should have to deal with.
*
When he jerks off, water from the shower splashing onto his shoulders, he shoves three fingers into his mouth, sucking on them as his hand moves faster, frantic and determined. He presses his fingers in as deep as he can and closes his eyes so that he doesn't have to be here, so that he can transport himself to a place where the carpet is rough against his knees but not half as uncomfortable as the dominating cock in his mouth. Water drips from soaking hair and winds his way down, streaming over his face. He thinks of Eames's hands in his hair and pushing at his scalp, thinks of being forced to take more than he can, and he comes, splashing semen into the bottom of the tub where it swirls and vanishes down the drain. Drool follows his fingers as he withdraws them from his mouth, and with shaking hands he gets right back to showering, scrubbing at his skin until it is red with friction.
*
It's a distraction. When he should be focusing on the plan or the job itself, he instead finds his attention drawn to Eames's groin, finds himself staring and trying to estimate the exact size, trying to work out how much it would burn as it burrowed inside him.
He feels as if he is possessed, his mind overcome by unwelcome ideas - but this isn't the first time. Eames isn't the only one he has noticed like this, won't be the last, but he is one person that Cobb is determined not to follow up with. They work together. It would get far too messy.
These days, he is beginning to wonder if 'messy' is such a bad idea at all.
Under Cobb's unwilling eyes, Eames switches positions where he is sitting going through notes on their targets - and he leaves his legs spread wide open, crotch exposed, bulge large enough to make Cobb grind his teeth to hold himself back. These desires are entirely inappropriate.
He's not going to give in. Not this time.
*
He had been in college when he had first discovered the delights of a decently sized dick. His first boyfriend had been a lot older than him, very experienced, and kindly willing to take his time teaching Cobb anything he might care to know. It was the second boyfriend, so well-endowed that his friends banned him from wearing shorts, that really caused Cobb to convert. They'd spent days in bed together, never moving, and Cobb was sure that he had spent an entire year with an aching ass. Worth it, though. Completely worth it.
But then there had been Mal and there had been love and everything else had faded into the background, had ceased to matter, because they had each other and nothing else could be that important.
He doesn't have her any more.
He doesn't have anything.
*
"Cobb," Eames says, cornering him in the bathroom one morning - and the tone in his voice is a warning now that Cobb knows him well enough. It means that he's being serious; that there is a problem and they are going to have to band together to overcome it. Eames is a lot more open to teamwork than most people who meet him assume. "I don't mean to pry, but are we okay?"
Cobb's eyebrows draw together. "What do you mean?"
"You've been staring at me recently," Eames says. Cobb swallows hard and tries to pretend that the world doesn't exist. "Rather a lot, actually. I've noticed."
Of course he's noticed. It is their jobs to notice everything. Cobb breathes through his nose, wishing they were in someone's dream; it is always easier to react when he is flying high on adrenaline, when it is a life-or-death situation, when no emotions are at stake, only lives.
"It's alright," Eames says. "I'm flattered, actually. I-"
Screw it, Cobb thinks, because if he is going to have to go through this awkward pretense of a conversation then they both ought to get something out of it. With steady hands he pushes Eames back against the bathroom door and drops to his knees, working at Eames's belt. "Is this alright?" he asks, glancing up at Eames even as he makes short work of his pants.
"Perfectly," Eames replies breathlessly.
When Cobb swallows him down, nearly suffocating himself in his haste, he quickly rediscovers that there is nothing more satisfying than a cock in his mouth.
*
Eames's dick is a fair size, although not the biggest that Cobb has ever taken - that dubious record goes to an unnamed man he once met in Paris, who manhandled him and left him bleeding. Eames is different. His cock is long and thick and heavy against Cobb's tongue, but he is gentle. His hands cup Cobb's head but they don't push and they don't take. The veins on his cock throb and twitch with restrained energy, and the organ is red with frustration and slick with saliva. When he comes, Cobb feels like he's drowning; it is little short of perfect.
*
It doesn't help. Afterwards, he goes to a bar and drinks straight whiskey as if that might be the key to his troubled psyche, but it doesn't help. His mind still echoes around those thoughts, and it is worse now - he's had a taste. He knows just what he is fantasising about.
He drinks alone and ignores anyone that tries to talk to him - trying to convince himself that this is the end of this, that he is going to refocus on the job and on getting home. Distracting himself with sexual flings was never supposed to be part of the equation.
Yet the thought haunts him, heavy and close in his thoughts, until all that he can do is pay his bill and wave down a taxi.
*
Eames is freshly out of bed when he opens the door to his hotel room, hair askew and eyes half-shut. "What time is it?" he asks.
"I need you to fuck me," Cobb says. Sometimes, he finds that it is best to cut straight to the point - especially with Eames.
Eames's eyes are open and awake now, eyebrows raised. "Right, well." He clears his throat. "Better come in, then."
Cobb is on him before the door is even closed properly, mouths clashing together as he hunts for what he wants, one leg pushed between Eames to feel the way that he swells against his thigh, large and solid.
"Been a while?" Eames suggests, barely getting the words out before Cobb is pulling him towards the bed.
"You have no idea," Cobb tells him - he hadn't known he had wanted this so much.
He's starting to think it might be dangerous to break the dam.
He has always been the sort of man to walk head-first into danger.
*
He gets Eames to lie flat on his back, hands braced against the hotel wall so that he can't touch him, as he sinks down onto that magnificent member, trembling where he is straddled across Eames's lap. His hands rest against Eames's solid chest, holding himself upright, as his cock burns and stretches him. Even slick and prepared it is a tight fit, and it has been so long that he had forgotten what it could feel like, the discomfort and twinge of pain.
It is worth it for the fullness that it provides him with, the aching sense that his body might never be the same. He jerks his hips, settling down further, and smirks when he hears the rough sound that rips from Eames's mouth - like a whimper that is whispered onto the air.
"You have to move, Cobb. Now," Eames says, speaking between tightly clenched teeth. His face is red with self-restraint, and Cobb does as he's told, riding his cock with renewed enthusiasm.
It won't be enough, he knows.
He needs to see Eames lose control.
*
"You call that fucking me?" he taunts over his shoulder - and the way that Eames thrusts in response hurts, more than his body can reasonably take. He slams a hand against the wall to keep himself from falling down onto his face, as Eames fucks him for the second time that night, taking him from behind while he is still slick and sensitive from before.
"Harder than that," Cobb wheezes; it still isn't enough. He wants more, and his fingers curl against the hard wall as Eames complies with a grunt.
Eames's hand slides over his back to the nape of his neck and pushes down, until he falls against the pillow, hips held up by Eames, and like this it is -
God, yes, just what he wanted. It feels as if Eames is splitting him open, claiming him utterly, and all of Cobb's world is reduced to this, to Eames's cock and the punishing pace of his hips.
He is pleading and whimpering and crying out to God as Eames fucks him - and he feels better than he has in years, finally losing control and falling apart.
*
They shower together in the aftermath; Cobb thinks that the gentle, careful way that Eames handles him is a sign of guilt, and that won't do. "I asked for it," he reminds him, even if he winces and sucks in air as Eames helps him to clean come and lube from his inner thighs and ass.
"I know," Eames answers. His voice is tight and sharp like a stretched wire. "I'm usually more careful. I will be more careful, next time."
'Next time'.
Cobb is glad that he is facing away from Eames. He doesn't want anyone to see the smile on his face.
"Don't be," he orders. "I liked it."
He feels the curve of Eames's smile against his shoulder followed by the brush of a dropped kiss. "As long as you're sure," Eames says. They finish showering together, soapy water running down the drain, and the easy companionship follows them out of the bathroom too. It's going to take some getting used to - Cobb finds that he is more than happy to try.
Pairing: Cobb/Eames
Word Count: 1840
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for a prompt on inception_kink for cobb_eames's Prompt Filling Friday.
Summary: Cobb has a size kink, and can't stop thinking about Eames.
He isn't thinking about it.
He is chewing at the end of his pen, trying very hard not to stare at the bulge in Eames's trousers, but he is not thinking about it.
'It' being something along the lines of crawling right over there to take Eames's cock in his mouth, to suck at it until it makes him gag, until his jaw aches and he can hardly breathe and Eames loses control, really loses it, and starts to fuck his face, leaving Cobb in gasping, desperate pain. He's not thinking about that. Really.
But he is not thinking about it a lot.
"Cobb," Arthur says, and it causes Cobb's gaze to jerk away, back towards reality, back towards the job. His mouth is wet. He swallows and tries to focus on what is actually important. "Are you alright?"
Nodding without saying a word, he pretends not to notice the concern that colours his friend's eyes; this isn't something that anyone else should have to deal with.
*
When he jerks off, water from the shower splashing onto his shoulders, he shoves three fingers into his mouth, sucking on them as his hand moves faster, frantic and determined. He presses his fingers in as deep as he can and closes his eyes so that he doesn't have to be here, so that he can transport himself to a place where the carpet is rough against his knees but not half as uncomfortable as the dominating cock in his mouth. Water drips from soaking hair and winds his way down, streaming over his face. He thinks of Eames's hands in his hair and pushing at his scalp, thinks of being forced to take more than he can, and he comes, splashing semen into the bottom of the tub where it swirls and vanishes down the drain. Drool follows his fingers as he withdraws them from his mouth, and with shaking hands he gets right back to showering, scrubbing at his skin until it is red with friction.
*
It's a distraction. When he should be focusing on the plan or the job itself, he instead finds his attention drawn to Eames's groin, finds himself staring and trying to estimate the exact size, trying to work out how much it would burn as it burrowed inside him.
He feels as if he is possessed, his mind overcome by unwelcome ideas - but this isn't the first time. Eames isn't the only one he has noticed like this, won't be the last, but he is one person that Cobb is determined not to follow up with. They work together. It would get far too messy.
These days, he is beginning to wonder if 'messy' is such a bad idea at all.
Under Cobb's unwilling eyes, Eames switches positions where he is sitting going through notes on their targets - and he leaves his legs spread wide open, crotch exposed, bulge large enough to make Cobb grind his teeth to hold himself back. These desires are entirely inappropriate.
He's not going to give in. Not this time.
*
He had been in college when he had first discovered the delights of a decently sized dick. His first boyfriend had been a lot older than him, very experienced, and kindly willing to take his time teaching Cobb anything he might care to know. It was the second boyfriend, so well-endowed that his friends banned him from wearing shorts, that really caused Cobb to convert. They'd spent days in bed together, never moving, and Cobb was sure that he had spent an entire year with an aching ass. Worth it, though. Completely worth it.
But then there had been Mal and there had been love and everything else had faded into the background, had ceased to matter, because they had each other and nothing else could be that important.
He doesn't have her any more.
He doesn't have anything.
*
"Cobb," Eames says, cornering him in the bathroom one morning - and the tone in his voice is a warning now that Cobb knows him well enough. It means that he's being serious; that there is a problem and they are going to have to band together to overcome it. Eames is a lot more open to teamwork than most people who meet him assume. "I don't mean to pry, but are we okay?"
Cobb's eyebrows draw together. "What do you mean?"
"You've been staring at me recently," Eames says. Cobb swallows hard and tries to pretend that the world doesn't exist. "Rather a lot, actually. I've noticed."
Of course he's noticed. It is their jobs to notice everything. Cobb breathes through his nose, wishing they were in someone's dream; it is always easier to react when he is flying high on adrenaline, when it is a life-or-death situation, when no emotions are at stake, only lives.
"It's alright," Eames says. "I'm flattered, actually. I-"
Screw it, Cobb thinks, because if he is going to have to go through this awkward pretense of a conversation then they both ought to get something out of it. With steady hands he pushes Eames back against the bathroom door and drops to his knees, working at Eames's belt. "Is this alright?" he asks, glancing up at Eames even as he makes short work of his pants.
"Perfectly," Eames replies breathlessly.
When Cobb swallows him down, nearly suffocating himself in his haste, he quickly rediscovers that there is nothing more satisfying than a cock in his mouth.
*
Eames's dick is a fair size, although not the biggest that Cobb has ever taken - that dubious record goes to an unnamed man he once met in Paris, who manhandled him and left him bleeding. Eames is different. His cock is long and thick and heavy against Cobb's tongue, but he is gentle. His hands cup Cobb's head but they don't push and they don't take. The veins on his cock throb and twitch with restrained energy, and the organ is red with frustration and slick with saliva. When he comes, Cobb feels like he's drowning; it is little short of perfect.
*
It doesn't help. Afterwards, he goes to a bar and drinks straight whiskey as if that might be the key to his troubled psyche, but it doesn't help. His mind still echoes around those thoughts, and it is worse now - he's had a taste. He knows just what he is fantasising about.
He drinks alone and ignores anyone that tries to talk to him - trying to convince himself that this is the end of this, that he is going to refocus on the job and on getting home. Distracting himself with sexual flings was never supposed to be part of the equation.
Yet the thought haunts him, heavy and close in his thoughts, until all that he can do is pay his bill and wave down a taxi.
*
Eames is freshly out of bed when he opens the door to his hotel room, hair askew and eyes half-shut. "What time is it?" he asks.
"I need you to fuck me," Cobb says. Sometimes, he finds that it is best to cut straight to the point - especially with Eames.
Eames's eyes are open and awake now, eyebrows raised. "Right, well." He clears his throat. "Better come in, then."
Cobb is on him before the door is even closed properly, mouths clashing together as he hunts for what he wants, one leg pushed between Eames to feel the way that he swells against his thigh, large and solid.
"Been a while?" Eames suggests, barely getting the words out before Cobb is pulling him towards the bed.
"You have no idea," Cobb tells him - he hadn't known he had wanted this so much.
He's starting to think it might be dangerous to break the dam.
He has always been the sort of man to walk head-first into danger.
*
He gets Eames to lie flat on his back, hands braced against the hotel wall so that he can't touch him, as he sinks down onto that magnificent member, trembling where he is straddled across Eames's lap. His hands rest against Eames's solid chest, holding himself upright, as his cock burns and stretches him. Even slick and prepared it is a tight fit, and it has been so long that he had forgotten what it could feel like, the discomfort and twinge of pain.
It is worth it for the fullness that it provides him with, the aching sense that his body might never be the same. He jerks his hips, settling down further, and smirks when he hears the rough sound that rips from Eames's mouth - like a whimper that is whispered onto the air.
"You have to move, Cobb. Now," Eames says, speaking between tightly clenched teeth. His face is red with self-restraint, and Cobb does as he's told, riding his cock with renewed enthusiasm.
It won't be enough, he knows.
He needs to see Eames lose control.
*
"You call that fucking me?" he taunts over his shoulder - and the way that Eames thrusts in response hurts, more than his body can reasonably take. He slams a hand against the wall to keep himself from falling down onto his face, as Eames fucks him for the second time that night, taking him from behind while he is still slick and sensitive from before.
"Harder than that," Cobb wheezes; it still isn't enough. He wants more, and his fingers curl against the hard wall as Eames complies with a grunt.
Eames's hand slides over his back to the nape of his neck and pushes down, until he falls against the pillow, hips held up by Eames, and like this it is -
God, yes, just what he wanted. It feels as if Eames is splitting him open, claiming him utterly, and all of Cobb's world is reduced to this, to Eames's cock and the punishing pace of his hips.
He is pleading and whimpering and crying out to God as Eames fucks him - and he feels better than he has in years, finally losing control and falling apart.
*
They shower together in the aftermath; Cobb thinks that the gentle, careful way that Eames handles him is a sign of guilt, and that won't do. "I asked for it," he reminds him, even if he winces and sucks in air as Eames helps him to clean come and lube from his inner thighs and ass.
"I know," Eames answers. His voice is tight and sharp like a stretched wire. "I'm usually more careful. I will be more careful, next time."
'Next time'.
Cobb is glad that he is facing away from Eames. He doesn't want anyone to see the smile on his face.
"Don't be," he orders. "I liked it."
He feels the curve of Eames's smile against his shoulder followed by the brush of a dropped kiss. "As long as you're sure," Eames says. They finish showering together, soapy water running down the drain, and the easy companionship follows them out of the bathroom too. It's going to take some getting used to - Cobb finds that he is more than happy to try.