Prompt Post No. 19
Welcome to Round 19 of the Inception Kink Meme.
Prompting System
Prompting System
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- Forty-eight hours later, post will reopen to new prompts and permanently close to all new prompts when ( Read more... )
Eames took off his sunglasses, widening his eyes and blinking at the fairly dim lobby lighting after the brightness of outside. He had to adjust his satchel to get in the door. He smirked a little towards his reflection, tilting his head so that he could see his good side.The tight t-shirt was from before he’d bulked up, and now stretched over his sculpted bicep like sheets on a freshly made bed. The jeans were a bit old, well-worn over his thighs and the curve of his arse. He never bothered with underwear, preferring instead to go naked under his jeans.
Somewhat of an occupational hazard, that.
“Morning, Mr. Eames!”
“Morning, pet. Sorry I’m a bit late. Traffic’s a complete and utter cock-up by the bridge. Bloody helicopters and everything.”
“No problem. You’re just in time. You’re off for the morning anyway. Didn’t you get my email?” Eames shook his head. Ariadne’s little cupid mouth turned down in a frown. Even her scarf seemed to droop for a second.
“No…” Eames trailed off, digging in his pocket for his phone. “Shit. It’s dead. I must not have charged it.” He made a face at the blank screen and stuck it back into his pocket. “What do you mean I’m off this morning? Aren’t I doing the dorm scene with Arthur?”
Ariadne’s pleasant smile froze for just an instant. “Oh dear. You should really go talk to Mr. Saito.”
Eames stopped fiddling in his pockets and froze mid-step. Saito was kind of like a case of the clap. There was some mild irritation, but you never really know it was there until your prick needed a prescription. Saito owned Dreamshare Films, and usually only stuck his nose in when there was something seriously wrong. The producer, Mal, usually handled the main day-to-day production issues. The offices of Dreamshare Films were located in a fairly quiet neighborhood. The property was gated, and had converted the tennis courts into a parking lot for the actors and staff. Dreamshare wasn’t one of the major players in the pornography industry, but they did fairly well. The main office area opened up to a series of small rooms. Some were used as dressing rooms; some were used as recreational rooms. Mal insisted that all the rooms be soundproofed, and they had they had enough lighting to make them feel like Jesus was smiling down upon them in case they needed any of the smaller rooms as sets.
“Right then. I’ll be sure to do that.”
Before Ariadne could reply, the phone rang. She was distracted enough not to notice the faintly worried frown Eames couldn’t help but give her. She waved him through towards the back, and he went, staring down at the floor, all traces of his cockiness from before having drained from his face.
Eames had his own dressing room of course. Mal had discovered him in Vegas, conning tourists out of their winnings on mostly the strength of his crooked grin. He walked back to his room, opening the door and shutting it behind him. Normally there would be an email for him, explaining which room he was needed, and what time his call was for. He didn’t have his laptop with him, and Robert had borrowed his charger, so he was pretty well fucked until he could connect with some sort of technology.
Eames frowned even harder. Shit. He was already more than an hour late. It was quiet enough that Eames knew everyone had to be on set. They had several different actors employed by DF of course, but lately most of the screen time had been with him and Arthur. Their website had a slightly different take on a typical pornography site. Instead of viewers paying per view various shots of gay porn, Dreamshare offered internet viewers a chance to pick their own scenarios. Sometimes they had live performances with special requests, and sometimes it ran like an auction site, with the winner getting to chose some of the main features of the film. It was Yusuf‘s job to handle the online side of things. Maybe Yusuf could help loan him a computer or something.
Eames poked his head into Yusuf’s office, located near the reception area only to find it empty. Bollocks. Ariadne had specifically said to go to Saito’s office. The email would have been a nice head’s up, but he knew he better go and find out what the fuck was going on.
tbc
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What he saw froze him in his tracks. Eames stood there for at least thirty seconds before he remembered to move.
Arthur’s lithe body was bent at what would be for anyone else, an unnatural angle. His knees were resting on one end of a coffee table, with his hands braced on the seat of the leather couch. He was facing Eames, with his head turned to look back over at his shoulder at Mal, exposing the long, graceful curve of his throat. Arthur’s wiry body seemed comfortable holding a pose that would have killed Eames’ knees while the production crew blocked the scene, setting it for the different lighting needed so that nothing would be in shadow for the cameras.
A man that Eames didn’t know was half kneeling behind Arthur. He was built, blonde and squinting a little down at the curve of Arthur’s spine. Eames watched as the other man licked his lips, and couldn’t help the way his eyes narrowed. The man shifted slightly on the couch, drawing Mal’s attention. She blinked at seeing Eames, a small smile on her face.
“Eames! What are you doing here so early?”
Eames managed to school his face into something a little more suited for his director and smiled back at her. “Mal, my pet, I didn’t know that I was early. In fact, I thought that I was a bit late!”
“Didn’t our Ariadne email you?” Mal’s generous mouth pulled down in a frown as she walked over to where Eames was standing, kissing him on both cheeks.
“Phone’s dead.” Eames smiled. “She said that Saito was waiting for me?”
“Yes. But not for a few minutes. Have you met Dom?” She grabbed his arm, turning so that she could introduce the man on the couch.
“Mr. Eames. A pleasure to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work.”
Eames tried not to notice the way Dom causally rested his hand on the small of Arthur’s back as he leaned forward, squinting slightly with his bright flash of smile as he held out his hand. Mal tisked under her breath when her phone rang and stepped slightly away from them, talking low in French. Eames took Dom’s hand on autopilot, shaking twice.
“Hey, Eames.”
Eames nodded at Arthur, still a bit narked at himself for the purely possessive reaction. It threw him for a loop. He and Arthur had worked together for almost a year now. In all that time, Eames had seen Arthur fuck and be fucked by several different people. Eames didn’t like the way he reacted. He was pretty sure that the faintly proprietary air towards a coworker was frowned upon in the porn industry, and it was bugging him that he was feeling like this.
“Arthur, darling. You’re looking precious as usual.” The ‘darling’ slipped out before Eames could stop himself. He quickly focused back on Dom, forcing a bright smile. “Pleasure is mine. You’re working with Arthur, here?” Between being late, finding out he’d been fucking replaced, and the stress of meeting with the bloody boss Eames was definitely off of his game. He hoped his words hadn’t sound as false out loud as they did in his head.
Dreamshare Films employed five different actors of all body types and sizes. While they did specialize in male gay film, they did occasionally have a need for a woman, depending on what was requested on the internet. Usually when that happened, they had Debbie in accounting fill in.
tbc...
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Eames kept his face straight as Arthur rolled his eyes; looking down at the black coffee table, then back up at Eames.
“That’s lovely.” Eames was saved at having to make any more awkward attempts at speaking by Mal returning back to the conversation, pulling him along. He nodded goodbye and allowed her to pull him away, noticing that as soon as Mal left, the techs practically swarmed over Arthur and Dom, blocking the next part of the scene.
“Well?”
Eames waited until they were out of earshot before replying. “He’s a bit… anxious.”
“Oh shut up. When I first cast you with Killian you practically came before he touched you.” Mal smirked.
Eames gave her a dirty look. “That is because his cock was the size of my bloody forearm. You’d come too.”
“Ah… the good old days. You can surely remember being utterly cockstruck, yes?”
“Of course. But…”
Mal stopped walking, stepping out of the way of the distracted sound engineer, who almost whacked them both with a boom mike.
“But…?”
“Oh. It’s nothing. Look, I better not keep Mr. Saito waiting, yeah? I’ll see you in a bit.” Eames kissed her forehead and moved down the hall before she could reply, knowing that she’d be needed on the set. She knew him too damn well. If he kept on with this bloody mooning about, she’d either mock him mercilessly or worse, feel sorry for him.
But maybe he was just over-reacting. He had well-enjoyed being cast as the top to Arthur’s bottom. He and Arthur were friendly towards each other, although Eames didn’t know if he would call them friends per se. At least on Arthur’s part. Eames would offer to have drinks after dinner, or ask Arthur if he wanted to spend their down time playing one of the first-person shooter games that they both were so good at, but Arthur always had an excuse. Eventually Eames had just stopped asking.
Their jobs forced a certain sort of intimacy, naturally. Maybe Eames had just become complacent. Arthur was familiar. Eames knew how he moved, knew how he moaned and arched, how he sweat and begged and the way sometimes he’d bite his lip when he was trying so hard not to come, lost for a second in the sensation of heat and friction and Eames’ cock. Eames never took it personally, the same way Arthur never took it personally when Eames would groan at the feel of Arthur’s arse clenching around his dick, or when he would tilt Arthur’s body and push him into the position he wanted, desperate and on edge from not being able to come until Mal bloody well said he could. Sex was just something to do.
Something they did well, and were paid well because people liked to watch them have it.
Still, that didn’t explain his … reaction. It was their job to fuck other people. It made no sense that this particular fuck -the remembered flash of Dom’s hand on Arthur’s back made Eames grit his teeth- would have bothered Eames so damn much. Was still bothering him.
Eames turned at the hallway corner, knocking twice brusquely on the door. Throwing Dom into the mix … well. Dom was slightly prettier and more muscled than Eames. Eames grudgingly admitted that Dom’s face was almost perfectly symmetrical, rather than the mishmash of features that Eames had. Granted, Eames and Dom weren’t exactly alike, but there were enough similarities that Eames couldn’t help but feel that he was the old bull being put out to pasture. Dom wasn’t as tattooed as Eames, but the dragon curling from his hip down his leg had been striking. Eames could well-imagine how the dragon would writhe as Dom moved his hips.
Eames glared at the door, not even noticing that it was opening.
“Mr. Eames? Wonderful. Please come in.”
tbc...
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So it was perhaps understandable why Eames had less than pleasant associations of Saito’s office.
Saito pulled open the door and stepped back in order to let Eames’ bulkier body inside. It was very dark in the room. Saito suffered from migraines enough that he preferred to keep his workspace fairly dim. It was also why he rarely ventured out into the brightly lit studio. Eames walked inside and sat himself on a rather uncomfortable-looking loveseat, trying not to feel as though he’d been invited into the Batcave. He tried to look around without gawking, tallying the amount of priceless art that was strewn around the place, casually lit with enough backlighting to show off the various pieces. Eames shifted, grimacing slightly when something sharp from his pocket poked him in the hip. Oh. Of course. One of the few poker chips left over from last night.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t read the email,” Eames blurted in a rush.
“Oh?”
Eames nodded.
“Mal informed me of your technological woes. Please, don’t concern yourself.” Saito crossed to a small chair that sat catty-corner to the loveseat. “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Eames.”
A proposition? Eames straightened slightly, feeling much more confident. Saito didn’t act like someone who was ready to fire one of his stars. Or like someone who was replacing him with a younger model.
“One of our more .. ardent... admirers has lucrative job offer that specifically requests both you and Arthur.”
Eames smirked. That wasn’t new. He and Arthur had fans, after all.
“Lucrative?”
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Eames raised an eyebrow. He had a feeling that the “admirer” was willing to shell out quite a bit of cash for his own personal porno. His smirk turned positively filthy. Of course, who wouldn’t? He and Arthur were quite a show, after all. His smirk faltered slightly when he remembered the rest of Saito’s speech. “You said there was some bad news?”
“Ah. Yes.” Saito sat back, all traces of amusement falling from his face. “As I’m sure you’re aware-- there is one major issue with his proposal.”
Eames blinked, confused. “Issue? Is there a legality issue? Mal will be all over that.”
Saito gave him a look reminiscent of a parent explaining something to a particularly slow child.
“I’m speaking of Arthur.”
Eames’ brows knit.
“Oh. You... oh.” Saito’s second ‘oh’ sounded as though something terrible had happened. “He didn’t tell you.”
“He didn’t tell me what?” Eames couldn’t help the way his voice cracked on the last word. What would Arthur not be telling him? Was he sick? In trouble somehow? Sure, Dreamshare studios was perfectly safe, insisting that its actors be tested every two months, but accidents did happen. Eames sat straight up, staring at Saito as though he could make him tell Eames everything based on just his stare alone.
“Oh dear. Well, you see I had hoped that you would be able to convince him for us, being that you’re such good friends.”
“We’re not friends.” Eames bit it out, the truth of the words getting him more worked up. “And why would he need convincing? This seems like something Arthur would be all over.”
“Perhaps.” Saito sucked in a breath, straightening. “Mr. Eames, I am sorry to tell you that Arthur turned in his resignation earlier this week. He’s quitting Dreamshare Films.”
tbc
(Sorry. Stupid comment limit.)
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It was the realization that neither he nor Arthur sound like that that sent his stomach dropping to his knees. Eames was all at once so furious that he broke the cardinal rule of being on-set, stalking off and slamming the door behind him. Fuck it. He’d been given the day off and he damn well was going to go enjoy it.
Eames was shoving his belongings into his messenger bag when he heard the door open behind him. He caught a glimpse of Arthur in his ridiculous purple paisley robe before he turned completely so that his back was to the door, frowning down at his desk as though deliberating whether or not to take the three paper clips that were left in the bottom of the drawer.
“Hey.”
Eames couldn’t help the way his whole body tensed. He met Arthur’s gaze in the mirror.
“Taking a break?”
“Something like that.” Arthur’s wry grin made something tighten low in Eames’ stomach. He was furious that the simple twist of Arthur’s lips could make his cock twitch in his pants. “You blew through there like a hurricane, man. Mal’s pretty pissed.”
“She’s French. She was born pissed.” That made Arthur huff a laugh. Eames watched as he leaned back against the door. The silence stretched uncomfortably. Arthur shifted his weight, closing his robe and belting it tightly. Eames felt the vein on his temple start to throb. “Saito just told me that you were quitting.”
Eames watched in the mirror as Arthur fought to keep his face blank.
“Nice that I don’t even rate an explanation.” His words were clipped, furious. Eames took a vicious pleasure in watching how Arthur flinched slightly before looking down to fiddle with the black silk tie of his robe.
“Did he tell you why?” Arthur’s voice was subdued. Eames turned so that he faced Arthur. He ducked his head to put the strap of his bag back on his head, and dug for his sunglasses, shoving them onto his face so hard that the little nose guard bruised the side of his nose.
“I didn’t bother to ask.” That wasn’t entirely true. Eames had been too stunned to think to ask. “You know, it’s not that big of a deal. I get it. People get burned out in this industry all the time. But we’ve worked together for two bloody years, Arthur. I know that you don’t particularly care for me outside of work, but even common courtesy would give me a head’s up that you were outs.”
Arthur flinched again, his chin coming up to look Eames straight in the eye. “I... did something unprofessional. I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Eames. You won’t have any trouble. Mal will cast someone else and it will all be business as usual.”
Eames took a step forward, giving Arthur just enough space to move out of his way. His skin felt too stretched, like he could break apart any moment. Eames wasn’t normally one to get attached to things, to people, for just this very reason. “Well, thanks for everything, I guess, although I suppose I won’t be seeing you around.”
“No. I suppose not. It was a ... pleasure working with you, Mr. Eames.”
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For some reason,hearing the echo of Dom’s words, along with the ‘Mister’ hit Eames like a punch to the gut, seemingly signifying all of the times he’d attempted to be friendly towards the uptight little sod. He just nodded, turning to walk out of the door. It had almost closed behind him when Eames heard Arthur’s rushed, “Don’t you ever get... tired of all of this?” The slap of Arthur’s hand kept the door from swinging shut behind Eames. The robe lost its battle with the silken belt, gaping open, showing the vee of Arthur’s tightly muscled body.
Eames was glad for the protection of the dark sunglasses when Arthur’s words caused him to blink rapidly. He forced his lips to twist into a smirk “Tired of this? Don’t be ridiculous, darling. You of all people should know how much I like to fuck.”
Eames left Dreamshare Films with barely a nod to Yusuf or Adriane, both of whom were staring awkwardly at Ariadne’s computer screen, having obviously heard his parting shot.
But it was the completely shattered look on Arthur’s face that he couldn’t make himself forget.
tbc....!
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