Temptation (A/E oneshot)
Title: Temptation
Pairing: Arthur/Eames, regular Inception verse
Rating: R (sexual content), Slash Pairing
Summary:Some idiots have captured Eames and after days of searching Arthur finds them and rids the world of them. When goes to where they have Eames tied up and blindfolded. Eames is completely unaware that he was just rescued and Arthur can't stop thinking of what he can do to the man in this situation. From this prompt on kinkmeme: http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/11941.html?thread=25918117
Arthur’s adrenaline was up as he turned the handle, his other hand gripping tightly his gun. He had no way of knowing if this was some sort of trap, but he had no other choice as he’d been unable to find Eames anywhere. He didn’t like taking the word of a man he was about to kill, but he had nothing else to go on, and he was not leaving without the forger.
After all, Eames was in this mess because of a job Arthur had pulled him into two months ago. Never let it be said that Arthur did not clean up his own messes.
He opened the door slowly, as if it was a room he belonged in, some place he always went. People were less inclined to shoot at a calmly opened door than one some idiot was overzealous enough to kick down. He scanned the room quickly with his eyes and gun; there was no one besides Eames, propped up against the corner.
The man was leaning against the wall, knees pulled up. His hands were presumably tied behind his back, his eyes blindfolded, mouth gagged. Arthur took in the sight of him, silently assessing the damage. Not too bad, his captors hadn’t gotten more creative than a few punches and kicks from the looks of it, which was good.
It was all very good, considering. Except for the fact Arthur was still just standing there, looking at the man. He should be going over there and getting Eames loose- telling him what an idiot he was and how much he owed Arthur and yet…
All Arthur could think about was Paris.
Arthur had always thought he and Eames were dancing around something, something that would inevitably end with the two of them falling in bed together, if not something a little more. Then they had needed a last minute extractor when Sabrina pulled out.
Eames had known someone, Arthur met Mark. Mark who was an excellent extractor and even a decent architect who liked to put his hand at the small of Eames’ back and who smiled when the forger put an arm easily around his waist. Mark who had apparently been going steady with Eames for quite some time.
Because Arthur had made a mistake, because Arthur had misinterpreted the teasing of a friend as some kind of flirting. Because Arthur, apparently, could never have anything he wanted.
And as Paris ran through Arthur’s mind, so did the thought that, right now, right here, he could have what he wanted, maybe. If he just reached out to take it.
After all, here Arthur was to save Eames, Mark nowhere in sight. Mark probably wasn’t keeping close enough tabs on Eames to even realize the man had gone missing yet. And though they hadn’t tortured Eames too badly, Arthur knew they would have killed him, no question, once they realized they wouldn’t get what they had wanted. Arthur had just saved Eames’ life. He deserved some kind of compensation, some gratification…
Eames would never know. Arthur watched the man straining, trying to figure out who had entered, pulling back into himself defensively the longer Arthur stood silent…he thought Arthur was one of his captors. He had no way to know he was rescued, no less that it was Arthur there. He would never know…
Slowly, Arthur stepped forward, aware of how loud his footsteps were in the silence, noticing Eames’ flinch as he heard him approach.
Arthur could…he really could…
He could crouch down next to Eames and trace his fingers along his jaw, ghost the tips over the cuts and scratches Eames’ captors had inflicted on him…but no, no he couldn’t do that.
Eames’ captors wouldn’t be so sentimental or delicate, Eames would suspect something, might figure it out. No, Arthur would have to be rough if he wanted to fool Eames, to keep his guise. Silent and cold, just shoving Eames to the floor, forcing his face into it.
No-no, maybe on his back. Let him try to fight, to kick and squirm and then Arthur could press his gun to Eames’ neck, the soft, vulnerable part of it in a silent order. And Eames would obey it, Arthur knew he would, Eames was a survivor. Eames would do what he had to to prevent bleeding out through the throat on cold concrete. He wouldn’t resist again, not physically, not after that. Not as Arthur removed his pants, unbuttoned his shirt.
Arthur would have to restrain himself- all of that right there in front of him- because he would want to kiss him, every inch of him, ghosting his fingers over him in the most intimate touch, take off his gag to lick at that beautiful mouth…
But Arthur couldn’t do that. No, he had to be rough, just bend Eames in half, because Arthur was sure Eames was flexible, he was sure of it…and just prep him with spit and a couple fingers before pounding into him, pressing him into the cold ground, listening to his gagged cries and pleas and nos, tears of pain probably staining the fold across his eyes…
Arthur was crouched down, mere inches from the man, certain his heavy breath was landing hot against Eames’ cheek. Eames’ normally plush lips were covered with the gag, long eyelashes hidden beneath the fold…
Arthur didn’t want to shove him down and take him. He wanted Eames to lie down and ask him.
He wanted Eames’ eyes open and blue, knowing it was Arthur above him, it was Arthur loving him. Arthur wanted to take his time, kissing him, and fingering him, and teasing him, watching Eames’ eyes slam shut only when Arthur’s fingers hit just that spot inside him…
He wanted to hear Eames’ groans as Arthur sunk into him; the yesses and pleases and Arthurs as he took him, the pleasure so evident in his voice, his hands gripping onto Arthur as if he’d never let go…
Arthur brushed his fingers along Eames’ jaw line, watching the man shrink away. If Arthur took it from him, Eames would never offer it.
Arthur stood up and silently walked out. He closed the door behind him and walked around the warehouse. He surveyed the damage control that would be necessary, wandering for a good ten minutes to take in all his options. He settled on prepping a fire that would burn the evidence away, then slowly headed back to the door.
He took a deep breath, staring at the handle. He cocked his gun, took a step back, and kicked in the door with a loud crash.
“Eames?” Arthur checked, pretending to be sweeping the room. “You alright?” he was already crouched down, pulling out his knife to slice through the ropes on the man’s wrists.
Immediately Eames had removed his own blindfold and gag. His hands were shaking, and Arthur had the sense to feel a little guilty. “You alright?” Arthur repeated softly, he knew what those hands were shaking from, watching as the man brushed his jaw nervously.
“Yeah, yeah, brilliant. Thanks for the rescue.” Eames tried to shoot him a smile but it only made him look more shaken. “Let’s get out of here now yeah?”
“That is the general idea Mr. Eames.” Arthur replied and pulled Eames up companionably, feeling the warmth of the body under his hand and smiling slightly.
It was true that Arthur wanted him, wanted him badly, but the idea of Eames wanting him, of needing Arthur back, that was something wanted even more, was willing to wait for, and had a plan for.
Mark was going to be wondering where Eames was, because Eames was going to have to go into hiding with Arthur for a while until Arthur had deemed the “danger” of being found again, passed.
So Arthur had time, time to do it right. And Eames had time to come around.