Prompt Post No. 19
Welcome to Round 19 of the Inception Kink Meme.
Prompting System
Prompting System
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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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