two ficlets, both movies (inception & some like it hot), pg13
Title: keep calm and just take it
Pairing: Arthur/Cobb [inception]
Rating: pg13
Word count: 430
Summary: Arthur has a point to prove and Cobb needs to be forced to relax once in a while.
Spoilers: well if you didn't see the movie this wouldn't have no point..
Disclaimer: if Inception was mine I wouldn't be here.
Warnings: none really.
A/N: originally written for toestastegood for the five acts exchange, with the prompt taking it slow. Lame title is lame.
“I think it’s high time we do things differently,” Arthur says, and Cobb doesn’t have time to process an answer before there’s a hand around his wrist and he’s pushed towards the bed with a slowness that feels slightly disconcerting.
Mostly because they never really take things slow. But until now it’s been a handful of times, between jobs, after the jobs, in cramped spaces, with Mal’s ghost always looming on them.
He thinks it might be the first time they actually do it in a proper bed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Arthur says, bringing a hand to his perfectly knotted tie and taking it off in a single swift motion, “that since we haven’t stood still for more than three days at once since you were forced to move business outside the States, you have never used more time than strictly necessary for anything that wasn’t job-related.”
Arthur takes also his jacket off (matches the tie) and lets it fall to the ground, then moves so that he’s on top of Cobb, his knees closing around Cobb’s legs, so that he can’t move.
Point is, Cobb isn’t feeling trapped at all.
If anything, his cock is definitely giving signs of interest.
“And that’s hardly what you need right now. I can’t remember a time in which you weren’t completely tense.”
“So what now, you’re going to put a remedy to the situation?” Cobb asks as Arthur’s hands reach the top of his shirt and start undoing his buttons slowly and methodically.
“I am. You’ll just lie back and take it, but I swear that you won’t regret a second.”
He takes Cobb’s shirt off and then proceeds on undoing his own buttons, then leans his head down so that his lips are just above Cobb’s. “Now I’ll take care of unnecessary clothing and you won’t move an inch while I do. And I swear that next time you won’t like fast so much anymore.”
Then he leans down and kisses Cobb, open-mouthed, hard and thorough and not leaving Cobb a choice that isn’t kissing back, this while his hands work -slowly - on Cobb’s belt. Not that his cock is taking a hint, since Cobb is considerably harder now than he was about thirty seconds ago, but then Arthur’s hand reaches down and gives him a long, slow stroke, and Cobb gasps inside Arthur’s mouth, a pleasurable chill running over his spine.
Maybe he really can get on board with this taking it slow thing.
Especially because he has all the time in the world now, hasn’t he?
End.
Title: where two jazz players posing as women should never share a bunk on a train
Pairing: Joe/Jerry [some like it hot]
Rating: pg13
Word count: 717
Summary: Seriously, not only he’s on the run from the mafia (which is bad enough), not only he’s dressing up as a stupid woman (which is almost as bad as the mafia) in the midst of a female orchestra (right up there with being dressed like a woman), but he also has to share the stupid bunk with Joe?
Spoilers: well, you saw the movie, right?
Disclaimer: I wasn't even born when it was released!
Warnings: none really?
A/N: originally written for doreyg for the five acts exchange, with the prompt accidental stimulation. Uhm, idek what possessed me to write this but as soon as I saw the pairing I was like I HAVE TO DO THIS DAMMIT.
Jerry is going to kill Joe one of these days. Slowly. Painfully. And possibly using a lot of inventive. What the hell was the idiot thinking when they were asked if they could share a bunk in the train for the night because of ‘lack of places’ and Joe had answered yes for the both of them?
Seriously, not only he’s on the run from the mafia (which is bad enough), not only he’s dressing up as a stupid woman (which is almost as bad as the mafia) in the midst of a female orchestra (right up there with being dressed like a woman), but he also has to share the stupid bunk with Joe?
A bunk which would be fine for two women but not for two men?
Jerry hates his life.
“Joe, dammit, stop moving!” he hisses after Joe turns for the umpteenth time.
“It’s Josephine! Until we’re on this train, anyway. And it isn’t my fault if you’re taking up all of the space.”
“I am - you are taking up all of the space! I’ll dig a hole in the wall if I press against it some more!”
“Yeah, whatever, and don’t swear anyway. What if someone hears us?”
Like, for example, Sugar in the bunk just below theirs.
Jerry really hates his life. He wants to be born a billionaire in his next one.
“If they haven’t heard you moving for one hour already they won’t hear me swearing - what the - Joe!”
Yeah, right, because Joe has thrown an arm around his waist and now they’re pretty much attached to the hip. More than they were before.
“There’s more space like this,” Joe replies, and Jerry wants to punch him so hard that it’s a challenge to hold it. He really doesn’t want to give them away now. Okay, if in his next life he doesn’t get to be a billionaire, he surely won’t be a jazz player. End of story.
Also he hates nightgowns. A lot. Mostly he hates Joe’s nightgown, since clearly the idiot can’t seem to stay still and he’s moving up against Jerry and damn, damn, it can’t be happening, it can’t -
Before Jerry can think about his grandmother in order to will away the erection that he’s currently sporting without even wanting it, Joe has raised an eyebrow at him.
“Just stop moving,” Jerry pleads, biting the inside of his cheek later so that he doesn’t cry out in shame, and Joe is even looking amused.
Jerry hates him. A lot.
“Just stop complaining, will you?” Joe says then, and suddenly there’s a hand inside Jerry’s stupid female underwear and -
“What are you doing?” Jerry barely keeps himself from screaming.
“Well, you have a problem, I caused it, I’ll take care of it.”
“But - me - you - this is -”
“Jer - Daphne, shut up,” Joe says before his hand wraps around Jerry’s now quite hard dick and damn but Joe’s fingers are quite nice and after he gives a couple of strokes Jerry has to admit that he knows what he’s doing, and so he turns his head and bites the pillow while Joe keeps on. He changes rhythm at random, the teaser, and Jerry has to almost break the cloth he’s keeping between his teeth in order not to make any obvious noise that would give out that they’re doing very inappropriate things and that they’re not women. He bites the pillow even harder as he bucks up and comes into Joe’s hand, trying not to shake too much and mostly trying not to shake the bunk too much, because the last thing he needs is Sugar to wonder what the hell are they doing up here.
When he lets his head fall back against the pillow, he’s sweating and breathless, and he’d really like to go to sleep, but then he realizes something.
“Joe,” he hisses, “you can’t clean that hand on the sheets.”
“That would be right, yeah,” Joe agrees, and then he licks it clean.
Then he brings that arm around Jerry’s waist again. “Satisfied now?” he asks, and then promptly falls asleep before Jerry can insult him properly.
Jerry settles back to get some sleep himself, and he’s grateful that it’s just for one night.
End.
Pairing: Arthur/Cobb [inception]
Rating: pg13
Word count: 430
Summary: Arthur has a point to prove and Cobb needs to be forced to relax once in a while.
Spoilers: well if you didn't see the movie this wouldn't have no point..
Disclaimer: if Inception was mine I wouldn't be here.
Warnings: none really.
A/N: originally written for toestastegood for the five acts exchange, with the prompt taking it slow. Lame title is lame.
“I think it’s high time we do things differently,” Arthur says, and Cobb doesn’t have time to process an answer before there’s a hand around his wrist and he’s pushed towards the bed with a slowness that feels slightly disconcerting.
Mostly because they never really take things slow. But until now it’s been a handful of times, between jobs, after the jobs, in cramped spaces, with Mal’s ghost always looming on them.
He thinks it might be the first time they actually do it in a proper bed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Arthur says, bringing a hand to his perfectly knotted tie and taking it off in a single swift motion, “that since we haven’t stood still for more than three days at once since you were forced to move business outside the States, you have never used more time than strictly necessary for anything that wasn’t job-related.”
Arthur takes also his jacket off (matches the tie) and lets it fall to the ground, then moves so that he’s on top of Cobb, his knees closing around Cobb’s legs, so that he can’t move.
Point is, Cobb isn’t feeling trapped at all.
If anything, his cock is definitely giving signs of interest.
“And that’s hardly what you need right now. I can’t remember a time in which you weren’t completely tense.”
“So what now, you’re going to put a remedy to the situation?” Cobb asks as Arthur’s hands reach the top of his shirt and start undoing his buttons slowly and methodically.
“I am. You’ll just lie back and take it, but I swear that you won’t regret a second.”
He takes Cobb’s shirt off and then proceeds on undoing his own buttons, then leans his head down so that his lips are just above Cobb’s. “Now I’ll take care of unnecessary clothing and you won’t move an inch while I do. And I swear that next time you won’t like fast so much anymore.”
Then he leans down and kisses Cobb, open-mouthed, hard and thorough and not leaving Cobb a choice that isn’t kissing back, this while his hands work -slowly - on Cobb’s belt. Not that his cock is taking a hint, since Cobb is considerably harder now than he was about thirty seconds ago, but then Arthur’s hand reaches down and gives him a long, slow stroke, and Cobb gasps inside Arthur’s mouth, a pleasurable chill running over his spine.
Maybe he really can get on board with this taking it slow thing.
Especially because he has all the time in the world now, hasn’t he?
End.
Title: where two jazz players posing as women should never share a bunk on a train
Pairing: Joe/Jerry [some like it hot]
Rating: pg13
Word count: 717
Summary: Seriously, not only he’s on the run from the mafia (which is bad enough), not only he’s dressing up as a stupid woman (which is almost as bad as the mafia) in the midst of a female orchestra (right up there with being dressed like a woman), but he also has to share the stupid bunk with Joe?
Spoilers: well, you saw the movie, right?
Disclaimer: I wasn't even born when it was released!
Warnings: none really?
A/N: originally written for doreyg for the five acts exchange, with the prompt accidental stimulation. Uhm, idek what possessed me to write this but as soon as I saw the pairing I was like I HAVE TO DO THIS DAMMIT.
Jerry is going to kill Joe one of these days. Slowly. Painfully. And possibly using a lot of inventive. What the hell was the idiot thinking when they were asked if they could share a bunk in the train for the night because of ‘lack of places’ and Joe had answered yes for the both of them?
Seriously, not only he’s on the run from the mafia (which is bad enough), not only he’s dressing up as a stupid woman (which is almost as bad as the mafia) in the midst of a female orchestra (right up there with being dressed like a woman), but he also has to share the stupid bunk with Joe?
A bunk which would be fine for two women but not for two men?
Jerry hates his life.
“Joe, dammit, stop moving!” he hisses after Joe turns for the umpteenth time.
“It’s Josephine! Until we’re on this train, anyway. And it isn’t my fault if you’re taking up all of the space.”
“I am - you are taking up all of the space! I’ll dig a hole in the wall if I press against it some more!”
“Yeah, whatever, and don’t swear anyway. What if someone hears us?”
Like, for example, Sugar in the bunk just below theirs.
Jerry really hates his life. He wants to be born a billionaire in his next one.
“If they haven’t heard you moving for one hour already they won’t hear me swearing - what the - Joe!”
Yeah, right, because Joe has thrown an arm around his waist and now they’re pretty much attached to the hip. More than they were before.
“There’s more space like this,” Joe replies, and Jerry wants to punch him so hard that it’s a challenge to hold it. He really doesn’t want to give them away now. Okay, if in his next life he doesn’t get to be a billionaire, he surely won’t be a jazz player. End of story.
Also he hates nightgowns. A lot. Mostly he hates Joe’s nightgown, since clearly the idiot can’t seem to stay still and he’s moving up against Jerry and damn, damn, it can’t be happening, it can’t -
Before Jerry can think about his grandmother in order to will away the erection that he’s currently sporting without even wanting it, Joe has raised an eyebrow at him.
“Just stop moving,” Jerry pleads, biting the inside of his cheek later so that he doesn’t cry out in shame, and Joe is even looking amused.
Jerry hates him. A lot.
“Just stop complaining, will you?” Joe says then, and suddenly there’s a hand inside Jerry’s stupid female underwear and -
“What are you doing?” Jerry barely keeps himself from screaming.
“Well, you have a problem, I caused it, I’ll take care of it.”
“But - me - you - this is -”
“Jer - Daphne, shut up,” Joe says before his hand wraps around Jerry’s now quite hard dick and damn but Joe’s fingers are quite nice and after he gives a couple of strokes Jerry has to admit that he knows what he’s doing, and so he turns his head and bites the pillow while Joe keeps on. He changes rhythm at random, the teaser, and Jerry has to almost break the cloth he’s keeping between his teeth in order not to make any obvious noise that would give out that they’re doing very inappropriate things and that they’re not women. He bites the pillow even harder as he bucks up and comes into Joe’s hand, trying not to shake too much and mostly trying not to shake the bunk too much, because the last thing he needs is Sugar to wonder what the hell are they doing up here.
When he lets his head fall back against the pillow, he’s sweating and breathless, and he’d really like to go to sleep, but then he realizes something.
“Joe,” he hisses, “you can’t clean that hand on the sheets.”
“That would be right, yeah,” Joe agrees, and then he licks it clean.
Then he brings that arm around Jerry’s waist again. “Satisfied now?” he asks, and then promptly falls asleep before Jerry can insult him properly.
Jerry settles back to get some sleep himself, and he’s grateful that it’s just for one night.
End.