Marked
Title: Marked
Series: #5 of Haunted
(#1 - Lost In Your Embrace, #2 - Conquer And Devour, #3 - Cry Out For More, #4 - Not Meant For Me)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the
inception_kink meme prompt in round 11: Bootlace bondage.
Summary: Sometimes it's not enough to say that you belong to someone. Sometimes you need a visible reminder of this, something to carry with you when it's hard to remember what really matters.
There was a king sized bed in the master bedroom of the apartment in Paris. Eames blinked in surprise at it. He and Arthur really hadn't been gone all that long; once Pierce had gotten the paperwork together, it had taken another three days to return to Paris. Ariadne had gotten there only five days ahead of them.
"The other one is in the guest room," Ariadne told them as she sorted through the clothes in their luggage. Arthur had wound up buying a few new things in Cairo and Geneva, and Ariadne carefully looked at the labels before putting them in the proper hampers in the bedroom. There was one for lights, one for darks and one for dry clean only. Eames thought it was Arthur's doing, but it had turned out to be Ariadne's idea to sort things that way. Apparently, before she came along, Arthur had everything done professionally. He couldn't be bothered figuring out laundry, and it certainly explained why he looked so well pressed every time he showed up for jobs.
"Well, you've been busy," Eames said finally. Arthur merely smiled as he sat down on it and gave a few test bounces. "Don't tell me you plan to break it in right away."
Arthur laughed as Ariadne giggled and Eames couldn't help but smile at the sound of it. Things seemed so normal, even though he knew for damn sure that Arthur had sent her an e-mail about what had happened in Cairo while they were on the train from Geneva. Ariadne probably knew everything he had revealed to Arthur; while he had said Arthur could tell her, he still wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wanted to brick over his past and leave it lost in the dark. No one needed to know about the shit that passed as his early life, and no one needed to contact Pierce but him.
He was used to guarding his secrets carefully, and it felt strange to let pieces of them loose, even for Arthur and Ariadne.
Ariadne shoved the empty carry on bags under the bed. "Well, I wanted to surprise you when you got back. What do you think?"
Her smile was guileless, and Eames felt a little bad for his uncharitable thoughts. Arthur's mail could simply have been their itinerary, since Ariadne had picked them up from the station with a ready grin and her usual quips about the weather.
"I'm definitely surprised," Eames said with a nod, coming to sit beside Arthur. He pulled her against him when she came close and kissed her. She smiled and then turned her head to kiss Arthur. That kiss was decidedly less chaste than his own had been. "And I'm definitely enjoying the show."
Ariadne laughed, a slight pink to her cheeks. "Well, it was more comfortable in Alexandria, you know?"
They were rearranging their lives to fit him. He didn't even feel sorry about that anymore, which was an odd feeling. When did he stop feeling as though he was an intrusion into their lives? When did he start feeling as though he had a right to this?
"Oh! And Ariston called!" Ariadne continued with a smile, grinning at Arthur. "There's going to be an official announcement, but he and Rebecca are engaged." At Eames' blank look, she explained "Ariston's my brother."
"That's great," Arthur said with a warm smile. "I liked her."
"Your parents definitely had a thing for distinctive names," Eames told her.
"Well, he goes by Ari half the time, and at one point tried Tony. It didn't stick." She grinned and moved to the closet. "You two unwind. I was going to meet with Delphine today. She's visiting her aunt Sophie and should only be here through the weekend. It'll be nice to catch up."
Delphine had been one of her best friends at school, Eames remembered. While they were working on the Fischer job, Ariadne had mentioned Delphine being jealous of her "work placement" job. That jealousy had ended as soon as Ariadne mentioned she wasn't getting paid and wasn't likely to get as much credit for it as Delphine was working with a local architecture firm. Eames had never met the girl, but she had sounded nice enough from Ariadne's stories. He watched as Ariadne took out a pair of knee high boots. "Those are new."
Ariadne merely grinned at him. "I've worn them all of once so far. Not my usual style, you know?"
Arthur was taking off his watch and tie, intending to change. He merely smiled at Ariadne. "Say hi to Delphine for me."
"Need help?" Eames asked, watching her try to shove her feet into the boots. When she nodded, he let Arthur help her with her balance as he knelt down to thread the laces through the loops. "These look good on you," he declared once he was done. He sat back on his haunches and smiled at her. It was a comfortable position there, and he liked how it felt when she reached down to stroke his cheek. "You should wear those more often."
"If it gets you kneeling in front of me, absolutely," Ariadne replied with a purr.
Eames' mouth went dry and he could only nod. His body was already tightening at the thought of her wearing those boots and bossing him around, and the sight of her getting ready to go out was a little too much. He avoided Arthur's knowing smirk by going to the kitchen for a drink of water. He could handle himself. He was a grown man, not a schoolboy seeing a girl for the first time.
He came embarrassingly quickly when he masturbated in the shower to thoughts of her.
***
"You really like those boots, huh?" Ariadne said with a laugh several days later to Eames. Arthur was curled up in the armchair with a book, and Eames was sitting on the couch. Ariadne was sprawled across the rest of the couch, her feet in Eames' lap. She was still wearing the knee high boots, the laces done up all the way and tied with a neat bow. Double knots, to be sure they didn't slip. Eames was running his fingers over the criss-crossing lines of the laces, his mind carefully blank. There had been no mention of Cairo, or Pierce, or anything he had said to Arthur. Maybe he really hadn't said anything at all to her. Maybe Arthur really was going to let Eames tell her himself.
"Yeah, I do." He looked up at her, not knowing what expression he was wearing when he faced her. Whatever she saw made her lips curl into a sensual smile. "What?"
"Is it the tying up part?" she asked, eyes sparkling. Eames shifted his gaze to Arthur, who was smirking behind his book.
"Maybe," Eames said, drawing out the word coyly. He let his fingertips glide further along the boots until he reached her knees. She wasn't watching the television anymore, but his facial expressions. He had no idea what he looked like; he wasn't trying to school his features into a mask. He watched her eyes darken as he curled his fingers around her knees, stroking the sensitive skin behind the joint. "I like this reaction."
"Do that again," she said firmly, lips parted slightly.
Somehow the simple touch was erotic. Maybe it was the way he was leaning over her, looking up at her for approval. Maybe it was the way his lips hovered over the leather of the boots, as if he would lick them with the same attention he gave her in bed.
Eames slid one hand beneath her thigh, feeling the thin fabric of her tights. He could feel the heat of her through them, and knew he was growing hard. Arthur put his book down, watching them. "Is this a game for just the two of you?" he asked.
Ariadne's lips curled slightly. "Depends on Eames."
"No, it depends on what you want, Ariadne," he said, sliding his hand further up her thigh. "What do you want me to do?"
"I've always wondered what it was like to be tied up," she admitted, licking her lips.
"You two never did that?" Eames asked, surprised.
"Not with laces," Arthur said with a smile.
"You trust me to tie you up, then?" Eames asked, sliding his hands along the backs of her thighs and kissing her knee.
"Always," Ariadne said quietly, lips quirked into a sensual smile.
"I want to leave you in the boots," Eames murmured, nipping at her knee through her tights. "Got extra laces?"
"I know where they are," Arthur said quickly.
"Figures," Eames said in a low tone as Arthur went to go find them.
"Be nice."
His eyes were dark with desire when he looked up at her. "I'm always nice, darling. Until I'm not."
Ariadne leaned forward and took his face in her hands. "I'm here for you, Eames, you know that."
He frowned. "Is this about Cairo?"
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he instantly wished he could take them back. "No, but I suspect we're going to have to talk about that," she said, running her fingers over his face. "When you're ready."
His relief was a tangible thing, and he hated that it was. He should have been able to leave all that shit behind him. It shouldn't still bother him, shouldn't be at the forefront. It shouldn't interfere with his relationship with Ariadne and Arthur.
Eames merely nodded and took her fingers into his mouth, laving the pads of them with his tongue. Ariadne's breath caught, and he practically crawled over her body to kiss her. "So you want me to tie you up, or tie you to something?"
She smiled. "I didn't even know there was a difference."
Arthur returned with the extra sets of bootlaces. Eames took them with a smile. "I tend to make it up as I go along, darling," he murmured in a husky voice.
Ariadne looked delighted. "Go right ahead, then."
The two men stripped her down so that she was left wearing only the boots. Arthur pressed kisses to Ariadne's thighs as Eames began winding one of the laces around an arm, keeping the length taut enough to press deeply into her skin. "It's going to leave a mark," Eames told her. "But then, that's the point, isn't it?" Ariadne's laughter fractured when Arthur's mouth found the juncture of her thighs, and she had to hold onto Eames' shoulder to keep from falling. Arthur licked at her delicately at first, then he pushed her legs farther apart to really dive in and thrust his tongue inside her. "Is this tight enough?" Eames whispered into Ariadne's ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Or shall I pull it tighter?" he asked, pulling on the laces.
She couldn't do much more than cant her hips toward Arthur's mouth and lean into Eames' touch. "More," she moaned, eyes sliding shut. She reveled in the feel of their touch, Arthur's mouth and Eames' rough fingers against her skin. She whimpered at the sensation, shaking as she felt her body tighten.
Arthur slid a finger inside her as he sucked on her clit gently. "Close," he murmured appreciatively, blowing across her moist skin. "Should I drag this out?"
Eames tightened the lace around her arm and knotted it three times to make sure it wouldn't slip. "Nah. There's plenty we can do for our girl here."
Not needing further encouragement, Arthur turned his attention back to Ariadne. She cried out and clung to Eames as she came, hips bucking against Arthur's mouth. Eames gathered her up into his arms and pulled Ariadne to the floor. Arthur knelt between her spread legs, his mouth still on her center. Eames pressed her bound arm into the floor with one large hand and palmed one of her breasts with his other one. He kissed her, hot and hungry, tongue sliding into her mouth. Her nipple pebbled beneath his palm, and he moved his hand slightly to stroke and pull at it. She made a soft keening sound at the contact, arching up into his touch. Arthur had his hands on her thighs, keeping them apart, his fingernails scratching lightly at the tender skin. Ariadne tried to pull her arm out from beneath Eames' grip, but it just rubbed the bootlace against her skin, chafing slightly. She couldn't move her arm. He was effectively pinning her to the floor, keeping her subject to this sensual assault.
She came again with a startled gasp, her body shaking. Her entire body sagged against the floor, as if she could melt into it. Eames moved to worship her breasts with his mouth as Arthur went to the bedroom for condoms. Her tied arm was still pinned to the floor, but her other arm was free. She threaded her fingers through Eames' hair and made a soft sound as his fingers slid down her stomach. Arthur returned with the box of condoms as well as a box of tissues, then knelt beside them. He was stark naked, and he leaned forward to press his lips against the back of Eames' neck. One hand ran down Eames' spine, feeling his shoulders tighten underneath the simple touch. Arthur rolled the condom on and pushed into Ariadne, making her sigh in delight. He moved slowly, rocking against her as Eames feathered kisses over her breasts and torso. Arthur leaned over, keeping most of his weight on one hand. The other reached for Eames, pulling out his shirt so that he could touch bare skin.
Eames' breath stuttered at the contact. It wasn't a bad memory. Quite the contrary, he welcomed the touch. This was so very different than what he'd been through, and he was consumed by the moment.
Ariadne's breath quickened beneath them, and Eames sat back to take in her flushed features and the way her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. Arthur shifted so that he was kneeling, drawing Ariadne's hips along his legs. This made his downstrokes even deeper into her, and Ariadne writhed along the floor. Eames was the only one still dressed, and he threw his clothes off quickly. Ariadne reached for him with the arm covered by the bootlace, and she stroked his erection gently. Arthur grasped her hips tighter, breath coming in short pants as he approached his own release. Eames settled a hand along her stomach, then flicked his fingertips along her clit. He brushed Arthur's cock and lower belly, making him gasp. Shuddering a moment later, Arthur came.
He pulled Ariadne up to her knees when Arthur withdrew. He grasped her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly, letting her cling to his shoulders for balance. She wobbled in his arms, then pulled herself up a little higher against his body. Arthur returned and helped roll a condom onto his cock. Eames' breath was ragged at the feel of his fingers, and he buried his face in Ariadne's hair. "God, yes," he groaned, and shifted position so that he could push up into Ariadne. Arthur wound up steadying her, and Eames groaned again at the feel of Ariadne tight around him. Arthur pressed kisses into her shoulder, hands on her arms to keep her in place. Balanced between them, Ariadne began to swivel and shift her hips in a slow rocking motion. She sped up after a moment, and Eames let his hands fall to her buttocks. He pulled her tight against him, fingers pressing deep enough to bruise. It didn't take long until he came with a shout, nearly falling backward against the couch.
Somehow they all tumbled to the floor in a sweaty, sticky mess. Ariadne reached for the tissues after a moment, helping Eames clean up. He removed the lace from her arm and looked at the bruises left behind.
Arthur lifted the arm and ran his tongue along the lines, making her shiver. Ariadne met Eames' eyes and smiled. "I want to mark you now."
"Oh, you do?" he asked, amused.
"Yes. So you know you're mine." If Eames wasn't already spent, his cock would have twitched in anticipation at that tone she used. "So you never forget you belong to me."
Eames' lips curled into a smile. "Is that so?"
"Exactly so." She pressed her other hand against his chest, her palm against his sternum. "You're mine, Eames. I'm going to remind you of that however many times I need to."
"Yes, please," he said, just a little sass in his voice.
She took the discarded bootlace in her hands and began to work it around his right forearm. She didn't tie it as tightly as he had, but it was a more ornate pattern with lots of knots pressing into his skin. "I want you to wear this all night," she said, voice breathy and pleased. She needed Arthur to bring her the other lace to complete her pattern of strings and knots, and she grinned at him once she was done. "You're going to wear this all night, and then under your clothes all day tomorrow."
"Oh?"
She covered his mouth with her hand. "Yes, you are. You're going to wear this, and you're going to think of me. You're going to know that I did this, I marked you. And every time you think about it, you're going to think about what I'm going to do to you tomorrow night. And you're going to think about what Arthur's going to do to you." Ariadne's lips curled into a lusty smile. "You're going to beg us to start it early, but we're not going to start until I tell you to."
"Yes, Mistress," Eames quipped. He grinned at her satisfied smile, and he couldn't help but notice Arthur's eyes on him. "Do I call you Master?" he teased.
Arthur shook his head. "Just my name. So you don't forget who you're with."
Heat curled low in Eames' belly. "I'd never forget that," he said, reaching out to touch them both. "There's no confusing this."
"Good," he said quietly, leaning in and kissing Eames. "We're the only ones that should be in bed with you."
On that point, they were all in agreement.
***
"Is it easier if you talk to me when Arthur's not around?" Ariadne asked Eames while Arthur was in the shower.
"What are you talking about?"
"You asked me if this all was about Cairo. Arthur said that some things were settled, but he didn't go into detail."
"I'm surprised."
She crossed her arms over her chest, the criss-cross bruises on her forearm showing in stark relief against her pale skin. Eames couldn't take his eyes off of them. "I'm not. He's letting you figure out what you want. He's not planning to charge in and rescue you from yourself."
"But you want to."
Ariadne threw up her hands. "Eames! What happened that was so awful?"
He looked at her calmly. "There's nothing to tell. Maybe you should talk to Arthur..."
Though the three of them had only just woken up that morning, Ariadne pushed him back down on the bed. She straddled his waist to keep him pinned beneath her. "No. It's not his place to tell me what happened to you. He nearly got killed when that team got ambushed. He told me that much. But you have to tell me what happened to you."
Eames closed his eyes and let out a pained breath. "Nothing happened. We saw my cousin for help with paperwork, that's all."
Ariadne looked at him in confusion. "Your cousin?"
"Yeah. He got us papers. Nothing terrible happened."
"Then why were you so wound up when you got back? I thought someone shot at you."
"It would've been easier if someone had."
Eames didn't realize that he said the words aloud until Ariadne's expression changed. "Oh, Eames. The fact that your family sucks isn't something to hide. You can tell me anything."
He wanted to, he suddenly realized. It hadn't been a horrible thing for Arthur to find out little bits and pieces, so it likely wouldn't be horrible for her to find out, either. He licked his lips and sucked in a breath. "I brought Arthur to Cairo in case his identity was compromised. My cousin Spencer is an ambassador there, so I knew he could get us good identities." Eames paused. "He's not related to me by blood, but he's the only relative I can stand."
"Was that so hard?" Ariadne asked, gently running her hands over his chest.
"No," he admitted. "It's everything else that comes with it. I don't want to remember it if I don't have to."
Ariadne nodded, then reached over to grasp the arm tied with knots. "Then every time you think of that, look at this and think of me. Of us, the three of us."
"Yes, ma'am," Eames teased.
She laughed and kissed his mouth as the water in the bathroom shut off. "When you want to tell me the everything else, I'll listen. Only when you're ready, and only if it matters, okay?"
"What if I say it doesn't?"
"Then you better mean it," Ariadne replied, scratching at the laces she tied around his arm. "Now, remember... You're wearing this all day."
"So? There isn't a job to do..."
She smiled at him. "We're going sight seeing. You're playing tourist today, Eames."
"I'm what?"
"We're going out, we're going to see some sights." She scratched at the laces again and rolled her hips over his, feeling him start to grow hard. "We're going to know this is here, but no one else will. You're going to think of me tying it on," she said slowly, running her fingers over the skin inside the lattice of laces. "And you're going to think of what we'll do later." She smiled serenely before lowering herself down to give him a kiss. "So you'll remember that you belong to us."
Eames caught her in his arms and deepened the kiss. "You are wicked, Ariadne. God, I love that about you."
Ariadne wriggled out of his grasp and laughed. "I call the shower next!" she said gleefully as Arthur came out of the bathroom. "Somehow, I think you'll need the cold shower," she added with a playful wink.
"Devious," Eames called out after her. Laughing, she headed into the bathroom to take a shower. Still lying on the bed, he couldn't help but smile at the ceiling. His arm tingled a little from the laces, but she was right. He was thinking of her kiss and her wet heat already, and the feel of Arthur's hands over his skin.
It was going to be a long day.
***
The three of them didn't hit all of the usual tourist traps, which surprised Eames. When Ariadne had said that they would play tourists, he had assumed that they would see the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre or Montmartre. Instead, Ariadne took them to all of her favorite shops and cafes from when she was a student, as well as parks where she used to sketch her ideas for classes. It was while they were sprawled across the grass with the sun beating down on them that Eames realized what Ariadne meant by all of this. It was ordinary. This was the life she and Arthur had between jobs. This was new to him, so this was his sight seeing. This was what being a tourist was about today. He was visiting a quieter kind of life, the life they wanted him to lead with them.
Ariadne laughed and pointed up at the sky. "That looks like a duck, doesn't it?" she asked Arthur, referring to a cloud rolling by above them. "Remember from that job we did, the one in Athens?" Arthur squinted against the sharp afternoon sunlight and then suddenly laughed along with her. It was a deep, rich sound, unrestrained by work concerns. This was Arthur in his ordinary life, when he wasn't busy being the consummate point man.
Eames turned to look at them, then pushed himself up onto an elbow. He could feel the bootlaces digging into his skin and relished the pressure. "I don't get the joke."
"There was this mark," Arthur began with a grin, "I swear, it wasn't a joke at all, but he was obsessed with ducks."
"Not just ducks, though," Ariadne chimed in. "You know, not a hunter or anything. But rubber ducks, like the kind kids have in the bathtub. Those kinds of ducks. And oh my God, Eames, you should've seen that level, it was ridiculous."
Arthur laughed again, shaking his head and rolling to his side to grin at Ariadne. "It was a gorgeous job. The entire layout was nothing but ducks, and the maze was inside of a duck, in the shape of a duck, and the safe was even shaped like a duck."
"I swear, if you had come out of that one quacking, I would've smacked you."
Eames laughed at the amusement they had remembering it. "That sounds like a trip."
"The man was crazy," Arthur agreed with a grin.
"Not clinically, but crazy enough," Ariadne said with a smile. There was a sad edge to it, and Eames ran his fingertips over her lips gently. Her eyes brightened when she took in his expression, and she cupped his cheek with her hand. "You are a bundle of contradictions, aren't you?"
"He'll take that as a compliment," Arthur chimed in dryly. "Don't encourage him."
Eames snorted and laughed when Arthur hit his shoulder playfully. "Hey. I'm still wounded, here."
"Oh, you're fine," Arthur told him dismissively as Ariadne giggled between them. "Nothing keeps you down very long, does it?"
His tone was light, so Eames knew that Arthur wasn't picking on him. "Suppose so," he replied with a shrug. "No point in thinking about what can't be helped."
Ariadne slipped her hand beneath the edge of Eames' shirt. "Those are very good words to live by," she declared. "Most of the time, anyway." She grinned when Eames looked down at her. "Go on, give him a kiss."
"People are watching," Eames replied.
She laughed. "Do you care?"
He considered that for a moment. "No, I don't." He pulled Arthur close for a kiss, smiling when he heard Ariadne's giggles. "Like that?" he asked Arthur, mouths still pressed together.
"Yeah, I do," Arthur replied, eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. "You should do that more often."
Eames found that he liked Arthur's smile. He'd seen the absentminded ones before, of course, but this one was because of him. He liked that. He liked being the center of someone's attention for positive reasons, for who he was instead of who he was pretending to be. Grinning, Eames pulled Arthur in for another kiss, sliding his tongue into his mouth. Arthur made a soft sound as he ran a hand along Eames' shoulders.
"This view is fantastic," Ariadne said appreciatively, propping herself up on her elbows. The men broke their kiss and smiled at her. "What? It is!"
"C'mere," Eames growled, moving his arm and pulling her up against them. It was a sloppy three way kiss, and they all laughed as they had to stick out their tongues to touch each other.
"I think kissing was not meant for more than two people," Arthur decided, grinning at them.
"I think this means we need more practice," Ariadne declared.
"I think we should head back to the apartment," Eames offered.
Ariadne laughed. "Nope. We're taking our time and relaxing." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Savor the anticipation, Eames," she murmured softly against his ear. "We're going to make it worth your while."
"Ben." It slipped out before he had meant to say anything about it. "The name I was born with was Benjamin," Eames said slowly, seeing comprehension dawn in Ariadne's eyes. "Everything else changed at least a dozen times, if not more. I lost count. But Benjamin was my name first. My father gave it to me. You should know that."
Her smile was painfully sweet, that lovestruck one she could get. "Thank you for telling me." She leaned over and kissed his temple. "Ben," she whispered against his ear. She licked the outer edge of his ear. "We're going to have so much fun tonight, Benjamin."
He suppressed a shiver as memories collided with the present. "We are?" he asked playfully, taking in Arthur's content look.
"Oh, yes," Ariadne replied, pulling back so he could see her grinning face. "We're going to have matching marks, you know."
That gave Eames pause. "We will, won't we?" he murmured, letting that sink in. He turned to look at Arthur. "You need marks, too, then."
Arthur shrugged. "Ariadne's already marked me. We can do it again if you want."
"She did?"
"That was an accident, Arthur," Ariadne said in severe tones. Eames leaned forward and nuzzled her neck to hide the rush of desire that shot through him at the sound of her voice. He pressed his weight harder onto his tied forearm, feeling the bite of the knots digging into his skin. Her voice and Arthur's sigh were tied to that sensation now.
"She cut me with that little knife she uses to make models," Arthur said, ducking her playful smack on the arm. "See that? She gets aggressive!" he teased. "That's how I got cut. It was a gouge, Ariadne, admit it. I actually had to see that asshole Sebastien to put in stitches."
"It was an accident!" she cried indignantly, and Eames chuckled against her neck. "I cut my hands all the time and I don't complain about it!"
"Stitches, Ariadne," Arthur taunted, scuttling back slightly to dodge her kick. "You only nick yourself. I needed four stitches."
"Really? Where?" Eames asked, turning to look at him. He hadn't noticed scars on Arthur's body before. Then again, he hadn't been looking for them.
"Outside of my elbow," Arthur answered, running his fingers over where the stitches had been on his left arm. "It's a faint scar."
"I'll make you one to match if you're jealous," Ariadne teased, nudging Eames.
"Let's see how tonight's marks work out first," Eames replied, seizing her mouth in a kiss. She responded enthusiastically as Arthur chuckled. "What?"
"I like seeing you this way," Arthur told him, grinning so that dimples showed. "You're relaxed and happy. That's the way it should be."
Eames smiled at them fondly. "Want me to show you just how happy I can be?" he teased.
"After we're done for the day," Ariadne declared. She rolled out from under Eames' arms and got to her feet. "Come on. There's another square I want to show you, and this fabulous restaurant we should go to for dinner. Then we can have fun."
"Yes, Mistress," Eames snarked.
She merely grinned and pulled him to his feet. "Damn straight."
***
Dinner was at a loud bistro with a band in the Quartier Latin. The food was rich and flavorful, the wine was heady and they were all telling each other silly stories about their travels. Ariadne wasn't as well traveled, but she made up for it with stories about her classmates from college and architecture school. She had gone overseas as soon as she graduated from high school, and had attended university in Grenoble before coming to Paris. "I couldn't make up my mind," she admitted, leaning into Eames' personal space. Arthur was on his other side, and he had grasped the bound arm tightly in his hand a few times. That had sparked heat in his belly, low and insistent. "I was going to study art history, something like that at first. I wanted to be a museum curator or something. It sounded so glamorous when I was in high school. I mean, I was only fourteen at the time, you understand."
"I thought American schools went until eighteen," Eames said, sliding his hand along her thigh.
She grinned at him. "I skipped grades, so I graduated when I was fifteen. How else could I get my Ph.D. so young? Besides, I wanted to get the hell out the house, and college was a great excuse, you know? It was an adventure. I mean, I was going to France!"
"You're drunk," Arthur told her with a fond smile. "No more wine for you," he said, pulling the wine bottle away from her side of the table.
"Oh no," Ariadne pouted. "How come you get to keep drinking, then?"
"Larger body mass," Arthur declared.
"In that case, I should get more than you," Eames told him, taking the wine bottle and finishing it off. "I've got more muscle."
"Is that what you call it?" Arthur snarked.
Ariadne giggled, her cheeks flushed pink. Eames gave in to the urge to tousle her hair and she laughed outright. The bistro was loud enough that no one glared at them for being noisy; Eames supposed that most students were loud and obnoxious here. It was probably why she chose it.
"I'll show you what I've got, darling," Eames drawled, leaning into Arthur.
"Promises, promises," he returned with a smile.
Ariadne pulled at her sleeves a bit so that they wouldn't drag across her plate as she reached for the salt. Eames could see the bruises on her skin, fading from the night before. "Do you think mine would last longer than that?" he asked, tracing the edge of the pattern.
Her lips quirked. "We can hope."
Eames couldn't remember how they got back to the apartment, and he surreptitiously checked his pocket watch. The hands didn't move, and he tossed it on the bedside table. He knew that Arthur's die and Ariadne's bishop were in the drawer. They didn't need to check that this was real, but he wanted the extra reassurance.
He stood in the doorway from the bathroom clad only in his open button down shirt and socks watching Arthur devour Ariadne with his mouth. He was sliding her dress from her shoulders, letting the fabric puddle around her feet. Eames strode forward and unhooked her bra, then slid his hands around her torso to stoke her breasts. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Arthur's temple. Ariadne blindly reached out to grasp the arm still bound with the bootlaces, her grip tight. It pressed the knots deeply into his skin, and Eames flew out a breath in frustration. He wanted one of them, both of them, either one. He wanted them now, but he would wait because Ariadne had told him to. It was hard to think with her grip on the knots and laces, her body pressed up against his erection and their little humming noises of contentment.
"I've been good all day, haven't I?" he rasped when he couldn't take it anymore.
"Someone's impatient," Arthur teased, letting one hand slide from Ariadne's arm to his shoulder.
"You've been very good," Ariadne said with a smile. "I think we should reward that."
"Oh? Which one of us gets to fuck him?" Arthur asked, his lips curling into a sensual smile that set Eames' blood to boiling.
"I think we both should." Ariadne sounded so pleased with herself that Eames nearly laughed at the sound. She turned around between them and looked up at Eames with a sensual smile. "And we're all going to enjoy every second of it."
Ariadne worked on undoing the knots and laces, and Arthur was at Eames' other side. Their clothes were shed in stages, and Arthur's mouth attached to his bicep. He was across from Ariadne, working at the skin and muscle with his mouth and tongue and teeth; Eames could tell he would have a dark hickey there soon enough. The thought excited him actually, and he turned his head to kiss Arthur's shoulder. "God, yes," he whispered against Arthur's soft skin. "Mark it harder."
"Don't forget about me," Ariadne said, a smile obvious in her voice. Eames turned to look at her bent over his arm, her fingers deftly untying the knots and leaving behind indented bruises in an elaborate pattern that almost looked like a tattoo. She raked her nails across the sensitive skin and Eames could only suck in a partial breath. "Oh, yes, you like this, don't you?" Eames could only nod. She got the last of the bootlaces off, then raked her nails down the length of his arm. Her smile was slow and sensual, a side of her that others didn't get to see. "And this?" she asked, raking her nails down his chest.
"Oh, yes," Eames breathed.
Arthur finally lifted his mouth from Eames' bicep to rake his nails down Eames' chest. "I think we should fuck him at the same time," he said to Ariadne.
Her eyes were smoldering, and Eames wanted to worship the ground she walked on. "You want this, don't you?" she asked, voice soft as she traced the marks on his skin. "You want us to pin you down and fuck you until you can't even breathe. You want it so bad..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she ran her hand down his stomach. She cupped his erection in her hands, stroking the skin with her thumb. "You want inside me, don't you?"
"Ariadne," Eames began, trailing his fingers over her bared stomach.
"And Arthur," she continued, nodding firmly. "At the same time, so all you know is us, all you feel is us."
Arthur was already reaching for the bottle of lube and spreading it across his fingers. His smile was tender, and it took Eames' breath away. "We'll take care of you, you know," he said, voice sure as ever. Eames hadn't doubted that. He sucked in an anticipatory breath as Arthur slid the first finger into him. Ariadne's nails scored lines across the bruises on his arm, and her mouth went down his chest. She kissed the slight welts their nails had made on his chest, and Eames let out a soft little moan. He reached for Arthur, grasping his bare hip tightly. "Just let us do this, Eames. Relax and enjoy this, hm?"
Ariadne's mouth was soft and warm and wet when she took Eames into it, and he gasped in pleasure. He arched into their touch, gasping and moaning as Arthur slid another finger inside him and Ariadne's tongue traveled the length of his cock. She sucked and licked at him until he was fully erect, then she scratched at the bruises again. It was a sharp, hard kind of pain, and it reminded him of the feeling in his arm when he laid over it in the park. "Please," he found himself whimpering softly, not even knowing what he was saying. "Please, I'll be good, I'll do anything, please..."
She moved up to look at him, concern in her eyes. "Eames? Ben?"
"Ariadne," he whispered, reaching for her. "I love you so much it hurts."
Arthur crooked his fingers, making Eames arch and gasp at the pleasure shooting through him. "It doesn't have to," he said softly.
"You're just a pain in the arse," Eames growled, a playful lilt to his lips.
"Oh, am I?" Arthur asked calmly, smiling in return. He crooked his fingers again, laughing when Eames jumped and howled.
"I love you, too, all right?"
Arthur laughed and grabbed a pillow. "Here. Let's get this under your hips for a bit of height."
Eames let his fingers run along Ariadne's torso. She shivered at the contact, her eyes like molten gold as she looked over him hungrily. "Height for what?"
He did what they told him, and watched Arthur's eyes darken as well. He knelt between Eames' spread legs, rolling a condom on. "To fuck you, of course," Arthur told him with a smirk. "So it's comfortable for all three of us at once."
Ariadne rolled a condom onto Eames' cock and straddled his waist. She sank down slowly over him, her hands flat on his chest. Once she was settled, Arthur slowly slid into Eames as well. He wound one arm around Ariadne, his fingers cupping her breast. The other touched Eames' hip. "Everyone okay?" Ariadne asked, her voice a little breathless.
"Yeah," Eames said shakily, looking up at the two of them. There was such love in their faces that it took his breath away. He almost hadn't believed this could be possible, for all that they were serious about it. He wondered why it had taken him two months to realize this was real.
They moved slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm that suited all three of them. Ariadne giggled when she nearly fell over onto Eames, and she grasped his bruised arm for balance. He nearly whimpered at the onslaught of sensation, and tilted his hips up toward them. Ariadne let out a pleased sigh, pushing herself harder down over him. She was starting to move faster, harder, her breath coming in shorter gasps. Arthur pinched a nipple between his fingers and pressed kisses along her shoulder. His other hand was tight on Eames' thigh, pulling himself further into Eames with every thrust. Eames couldn't withstand the two of them for long, and cried out as he came. Ariadne came soon after he did, and Arthur finished last, nearly collapsing onto Ariadne.
The three of them were a tangled, sticky mess on the bed, and Eames could only laugh shakily as he saw the bruises on both of his arms. "I can't ever thank you enough for these," he said softly, touching one and then the other. There was reverence there, and Ariadne propped herself up on one elbow to look at his rapt expression. Arthur watched him with large eyes, moving to sit up.
"Sometimes it's not enough to say that you belong to someone," Eames said softly. He sat up, facing Ariadne. Arthur shifted position as she sat up as well, coming closer to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes you need a visible reminder of this, something to carry with you when it's hard to remember what really matters."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, curious.
"Edgar... My stepfather," Eames clarified at Ariadne's confused look. "He... He said he marked me. That no matter what I did, where I went, I'd always be his. I couldn't escape him."
Ariadne held his hands between hers. She squeezed them slightly, not saying a word yet. Eames wasn't quite done, and she had the feeling that if she said anything, the spell would be broken and he would never say another word about it. Arthur was just as silent behind him, arms around Eames' torso in support, his chin on Eames' shoulder. Eames could only look at their twined hands.
"I tried to tell Mum. She thought I was trying to destroy her life. She thought I was a liar. She wanted her posh little life and her storybook children. She didn't want me, so she sent me away."
Arthur pressed his lips to Eames' neck and Ariadne picked up their hands to kiss Eames' knuckles. "We're still here," Arthur murmured gently.
"He was right, though. Edgar. I could never get far enough away. I was the liar Mum thought me to be, and I couldn't get away. He'd marked me."
Ariadne pressed her mouth against the pattern of knots and lines in Eames' skin. "And this?"
Eames looked up at her with bleak eyes. "How did you know I needed this?"
"You needed to know you belong with us," Ariadne said softly. "Not to the past, not to anyone else. Just us."
Eames cupped Ariadne's face with one hand. "Edgar's dead, but he's not gone. He..."
Ariadne covered his lips with one hand. "Sh. Are you ready to tell us?"
"I don't know," he said, his voice lost.
"Then wait until you know." Arthur's arms tightened around Eames as Ariadne spoke. "We can wait. We don't have to hear it now."
"What if I never tell you?"
"Then you don't," Arthur said simply, shrugging against his back. "That's not why we're together. I told you. It's not because of contacts or information or what we can get from you." He dropped a kiss onto the back of Eames' neck. "We love you. No matter what did or didn't happen in the past, no matter what you tell us."
"Why doesn't this change things? Why don't you think less of me?" Eames asked softly.
"Whatever happened wasn't your fault," Ariadne said softly. "Parents are supposed to protect their children, not break them apart. Believe me, I know." There was a soft and awful kind of knowledge in her voice, as if she really did know.
"He said I was the only reason he stayed," Eames said abruptly. "That if I wasn't good, he'd leave Mum. Then when Jess and Thad came along, he said he'd hurt them."
"Too bad he's dead," Arthur said, his voice hard and edged.
"What?" Eames asked as Ariadne nodded. "Why?"
"Can't kill a dead man," he replied, shrugging.
"There's dreams," Ariadne said helpfully, "but that's a kind of creepy. I don't think we should do that."
Eames blinked in surprise. No one had offered to kill someone for him for purely personal reasons before. "You mean that, don't you?" he asked. "You believe me."
"Of course we do," Ariadne said, voice soft.
"You'd never lie about something like that," Arthur said.
Eames grasped them both tightly. "Thank you."
Neither asked for what. They simply held him and kissed him, giving silent support. Maybe he would say more at some point, maybe he wouldn't. He felt as if a weight had lifted, as if he wasn't as horrible as he'd always thought he was. He knew them; they could never love someone unworthy. Ariadne had marked him as hers, and Arthur had as well. They trusted him, and not just on the job. He wasn't used to that, but he wanted to be. He wanted to be more than the empty-souled liar he always thought he was. He wanted to be worthy of them, whatever that meant. It probably meant not hiding behind masks, not lying to himself anymore.
For them, he could do it. For them, he could do anything.
The End
Series: #5 of Haunted
(#1 - Lost In Your Embrace, #2 - Conquer And Devour, #3 - Cry Out For More, #4 - Not Meant For Me)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the
inception_kink meme prompt in round 11: Bootlace bondage.
Summary: Sometimes it's not enough to say that you belong to someone. Sometimes you need a visible reminder of this, something to carry with you when it's hard to remember what really matters.
There was a king sized bed in the master bedroom of the apartment in Paris. Eames blinked in surprise at it. He and Arthur really hadn't been gone all that long; once Pierce had gotten the paperwork together, it had taken another three days to return to Paris. Ariadne had gotten there only five days ahead of them.
"The other one is in the guest room," Ariadne told them as she sorted through the clothes in their luggage. Arthur had wound up buying a few new things in Cairo and Geneva, and Ariadne carefully looked at the labels before putting them in the proper hampers in the bedroom. There was one for lights, one for darks and one for dry clean only. Eames thought it was Arthur's doing, but it had turned out to be Ariadne's idea to sort things that way. Apparently, before she came along, Arthur had everything done professionally. He couldn't be bothered figuring out laundry, and it certainly explained why he looked so well pressed every time he showed up for jobs.
"Well, you've been busy," Eames said finally. Arthur merely smiled as he sat down on it and gave a few test bounces. "Don't tell me you plan to break it in right away."
Arthur laughed as Ariadne giggled and Eames couldn't help but smile at the sound of it. Things seemed so normal, even though he knew for damn sure that Arthur had sent her an e-mail about what had happened in Cairo while they were on the train from Geneva. Ariadne probably knew everything he had revealed to Arthur; while he had said Arthur could tell her, he still wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wanted to brick over his past and leave it lost in the dark. No one needed to know about the shit that passed as his early life, and no one needed to contact Pierce but him.
He was used to guarding his secrets carefully, and it felt strange to let pieces of them loose, even for Arthur and Ariadne.
Ariadne shoved the empty carry on bags under the bed. "Well, I wanted to surprise you when you got back. What do you think?"
Her smile was guileless, and Eames felt a little bad for his uncharitable thoughts. Arthur's mail could simply have been their itinerary, since Ariadne had picked them up from the station with a ready grin and her usual quips about the weather.
"I'm definitely surprised," Eames said with a nod, coming to sit beside Arthur. He pulled her against him when she came close and kissed her. She smiled and then turned her head to kiss Arthur. That kiss was decidedly less chaste than his own had been. "And I'm definitely enjoying the show."
Ariadne laughed, a slight pink to her cheeks. "Well, it was more comfortable in Alexandria, you know?"
They were rearranging their lives to fit him. He didn't even feel sorry about that anymore, which was an odd feeling. When did he stop feeling as though he was an intrusion into their lives? When did he start feeling as though he had a right to this?
"Oh! And Ariston called!" Ariadne continued with a smile, grinning at Arthur. "There's going to be an official announcement, but he and Rebecca are engaged." At Eames' blank look, she explained "Ariston's my brother."
"That's great," Arthur said with a warm smile. "I liked her."
"Your parents definitely had a thing for distinctive names," Eames told her.
"Well, he goes by Ari half the time, and at one point tried Tony. It didn't stick." She grinned and moved to the closet. "You two unwind. I was going to meet with Delphine today. She's visiting her aunt Sophie and should only be here through the weekend. It'll be nice to catch up."
Delphine had been one of her best friends at school, Eames remembered. While they were working on the Fischer job, Ariadne had mentioned Delphine being jealous of her "work placement" job. That jealousy had ended as soon as Ariadne mentioned she wasn't getting paid and wasn't likely to get as much credit for it as Delphine was working with a local architecture firm. Eames had never met the girl, but she had sounded nice enough from Ariadne's stories. He watched as Ariadne took out a pair of knee high boots. "Those are new."
Ariadne merely grinned at him. "I've worn them all of once so far. Not my usual style, you know?"
Arthur was taking off his watch and tie, intending to change. He merely smiled at Ariadne. "Say hi to Delphine for me."
"Need help?" Eames asked, watching her try to shove her feet into the boots. When she nodded, he let Arthur help her with her balance as he knelt down to thread the laces through the loops. "These look good on you," he declared once he was done. He sat back on his haunches and smiled at her. It was a comfortable position there, and he liked how it felt when she reached down to stroke his cheek. "You should wear those more often."
"If it gets you kneeling in front of me, absolutely," Ariadne replied with a purr.
Eames' mouth went dry and he could only nod. His body was already tightening at the thought of her wearing those boots and bossing him around, and the sight of her getting ready to go out was a little too much. He avoided Arthur's knowing smirk by going to the kitchen for a drink of water. He could handle himself. He was a grown man, not a schoolboy seeing a girl for the first time.
He came embarrassingly quickly when he masturbated in the shower to thoughts of her.
***
"You really like those boots, huh?" Ariadne said with a laugh several days later to Eames. Arthur was curled up in the armchair with a book, and Eames was sitting on the couch. Ariadne was sprawled across the rest of the couch, her feet in Eames' lap. She was still wearing the knee high boots, the laces done up all the way and tied with a neat bow. Double knots, to be sure they didn't slip. Eames was running his fingers over the criss-crossing lines of the laces, his mind carefully blank. There had been no mention of Cairo, or Pierce, or anything he had said to Arthur. Maybe he really hadn't said anything at all to her. Maybe Arthur really was going to let Eames tell her himself.
"Yeah, I do." He looked up at her, not knowing what expression he was wearing when he faced her. Whatever she saw made her lips curl into a sensual smile. "What?"
"Is it the tying up part?" she asked, eyes sparkling. Eames shifted his gaze to Arthur, who was smirking behind his book.
"Maybe," Eames said, drawing out the word coyly. He let his fingertips glide further along the boots until he reached her knees. She wasn't watching the television anymore, but his facial expressions. He had no idea what he looked like; he wasn't trying to school his features into a mask. He watched her eyes darken as he curled his fingers around her knees, stroking the sensitive skin behind the joint. "I like this reaction."
"Do that again," she said firmly, lips parted slightly.
Somehow the simple touch was erotic. Maybe it was the way he was leaning over her, looking up at her for approval. Maybe it was the way his lips hovered over the leather of the boots, as if he would lick them with the same attention he gave her in bed.
Eames slid one hand beneath her thigh, feeling the thin fabric of her tights. He could feel the heat of her through them, and knew he was growing hard. Arthur put his book down, watching them. "Is this a game for just the two of you?" he asked.
Ariadne's lips curled slightly. "Depends on Eames."
"No, it depends on what you want, Ariadne," he said, sliding his hand further up her thigh. "What do you want me to do?"
"I've always wondered what it was like to be tied up," she admitted, licking her lips.
"You two never did that?" Eames asked, surprised.
"Not with laces," Arthur said with a smile.
"You trust me to tie you up, then?" Eames asked, sliding his hands along the backs of her thighs and kissing her knee.
"Always," Ariadne said quietly, lips quirked into a sensual smile.
"I want to leave you in the boots," Eames murmured, nipping at her knee through her tights. "Got extra laces?"
"I know where they are," Arthur said quickly.
"Figures," Eames said in a low tone as Arthur went to go find them.
"Be nice."
His eyes were dark with desire when he looked up at her. "I'm always nice, darling. Until I'm not."
Ariadne leaned forward and took his face in her hands. "I'm here for you, Eames, you know that."
He frowned. "Is this about Cairo?"
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he instantly wished he could take them back. "No, but I suspect we're going to have to talk about that," she said, running her fingers over his face. "When you're ready."
His relief was a tangible thing, and he hated that it was. He should have been able to leave all that shit behind him. It shouldn't still bother him, shouldn't be at the forefront. It shouldn't interfere with his relationship with Ariadne and Arthur.
Eames merely nodded and took her fingers into his mouth, laving the pads of them with his tongue. Ariadne's breath caught, and he practically crawled over her body to kiss her. "So you want me to tie you up, or tie you to something?"
She smiled. "I didn't even know there was a difference."
Arthur returned with the extra sets of bootlaces. Eames took them with a smile. "I tend to make it up as I go along, darling," he murmured in a husky voice.
Ariadne looked delighted. "Go right ahead, then."
The two men stripped her down so that she was left wearing only the boots. Arthur pressed kisses to Ariadne's thighs as Eames began winding one of the laces around an arm, keeping the length taut enough to press deeply into her skin. "It's going to leave a mark," Eames told her. "But then, that's the point, isn't it?" Ariadne's laughter fractured when Arthur's mouth found the juncture of her thighs, and she had to hold onto Eames' shoulder to keep from falling. Arthur licked at her delicately at first, then he pushed her legs farther apart to really dive in and thrust his tongue inside her. "Is this tight enough?" Eames whispered into Ariadne's ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Or shall I pull it tighter?" he asked, pulling on the laces.
She couldn't do much more than cant her hips toward Arthur's mouth and lean into Eames' touch. "More," she moaned, eyes sliding shut. She reveled in the feel of their touch, Arthur's mouth and Eames' rough fingers against her skin. She whimpered at the sensation, shaking as she felt her body tighten.
Arthur slid a finger inside her as he sucked on her clit gently. "Close," he murmured appreciatively, blowing across her moist skin. "Should I drag this out?"
Eames tightened the lace around her arm and knotted it three times to make sure it wouldn't slip. "Nah. There's plenty we can do for our girl here."
Not needing further encouragement, Arthur turned his attention back to Ariadne. She cried out and clung to Eames as she came, hips bucking against Arthur's mouth. Eames gathered her up into his arms and pulled Ariadne to the floor. Arthur knelt between her spread legs, his mouth still on her center. Eames pressed her bound arm into the floor with one large hand and palmed one of her breasts with his other one. He kissed her, hot and hungry, tongue sliding into her mouth. Her nipple pebbled beneath his palm, and he moved his hand slightly to stroke and pull at it. She made a soft keening sound at the contact, arching up into his touch. Arthur had his hands on her thighs, keeping them apart, his fingernails scratching lightly at the tender skin. Ariadne tried to pull her arm out from beneath Eames' grip, but it just rubbed the bootlace against her skin, chafing slightly. She couldn't move her arm. He was effectively pinning her to the floor, keeping her subject to this sensual assault.
She came again with a startled gasp, her body shaking. Her entire body sagged against the floor, as if she could melt into it. Eames moved to worship her breasts with his mouth as Arthur went to the bedroom for condoms. Her tied arm was still pinned to the floor, but her other arm was free. She threaded her fingers through Eames' hair and made a soft sound as his fingers slid down her stomach. Arthur returned with the box of condoms as well as a box of tissues, then knelt beside them. He was stark naked, and he leaned forward to press his lips against the back of Eames' neck. One hand ran down Eames' spine, feeling his shoulders tighten underneath the simple touch. Arthur rolled the condom on and pushed into Ariadne, making her sigh in delight. He moved slowly, rocking against her as Eames feathered kisses over her breasts and torso. Arthur leaned over, keeping most of his weight on one hand. The other reached for Eames, pulling out his shirt so that he could touch bare skin.
Eames' breath stuttered at the contact. It wasn't a bad memory. Quite the contrary, he welcomed the touch. This was so very different than what he'd been through, and he was consumed by the moment.
Ariadne's breath quickened beneath them, and Eames sat back to take in her flushed features and the way her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. Arthur shifted so that he was kneeling, drawing Ariadne's hips along his legs. This made his downstrokes even deeper into her, and Ariadne writhed along the floor. Eames was the only one still dressed, and he threw his clothes off quickly. Ariadne reached for him with the arm covered by the bootlace, and she stroked his erection gently. Arthur grasped her hips tighter, breath coming in short pants as he approached his own release. Eames settled a hand along her stomach, then flicked his fingertips along her clit. He brushed Arthur's cock and lower belly, making him gasp. Shuddering a moment later, Arthur came.
He pulled Ariadne up to her knees when Arthur withdrew. He grasped her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly, letting her cling to his shoulders for balance. She wobbled in his arms, then pulled herself up a little higher against his body. Arthur returned and helped roll a condom onto his cock. Eames' breath was ragged at the feel of his fingers, and he buried his face in Ariadne's hair. "God, yes," he groaned, and shifted position so that he could push up into Ariadne. Arthur wound up steadying her, and Eames groaned again at the feel of Ariadne tight around him. Arthur pressed kisses into her shoulder, hands on her arms to keep her in place. Balanced between them, Ariadne began to swivel and shift her hips in a slow rocking motion. She sped up after a moment, and Eames let his hands fall to her buttocks. He pulled her tight against him, fingers pressing deep enough to bruise. It didn't take long until he came with a shout, nearly falling backward against the couch.
Somehow they all tumbled to the floor in a sweaty, sticky mess. Ariadne reached for the tissues after a moment, helping Eames clean up. He removed the lace from her arm and looked at the bruises left behind.
Arthur lifted the arm and ran his tongue along the lines, making her shiver. Ariadne met Eames' eyes and smiled. "I want to mark you now."
"Oh, you do?" he asked, amused.
"Yes. So you know you're mine." If Eames wasn't already spent, his cock would have twitched in anticipation at that tone she used. "So you never forget you belong to me."
Eames' lips curled into a smile. "Is that so?"
"Exactly so." She pressed her other hand against his chest, her palm against his sternum. "You're mine, Eames. I'm going to remind you of that however many times I need to."
"Yes, please," he said, just a little sass in his voice.
She took the discarded bootlace in her hands and began to work it around his right forearm. She didn't tie it as tightly as he had, but it was a more ornate pattern with lots of knots pressing into his skin. "I want you to wear this all night," she said, voice breathy and pleased. She needed Arthur to bring her the other lace to complete her pattern of strings and knots, and she grinned at him once she was done. "You're going to wear this all night, and then under your clothes all day tomorrow."
"Oh?"
She covered his mouth with her hand. "Yes, you are. You're going to wear this, and you're going to think of me. You're going to know that I did this, I marked you. And every time you think about it, you're going to think about what I'm going to do to you tomorrow night. And you're going to think about what Arthur's going to do to you." Ariadne's lips curled into a lusty smile. "You're going to beg us to start it early, but we're not going to start until I tell you to."
"Yes, Mistress," Eames quipped. He grinned at her satisfied smile, and he couldn't help but notice Arthur's eyes on him. "Do I call you Master?" he teased.
Arthur shook his head. "Just my name. So you don't forget who you're with."
Heat curled low in Eames' belly. "I'd never forget that," he said, reaching out to touch them both. "There's no confusing this."
"Good," he said quietly, leaning in and kissing Eames. "We're the only ones that should be in bed with you."
On that point, they were all in agreement.
***
"Is it easier if you talk to me when Arthur's not around?" Ariadne asked Eames while Arthur was in the shower.
"What are you talking about?"
"You asked me if this all was about Cairo. Arthur said that some things were settled, but he didn't go into detail."
"I'm surprised."
She crossed her arms over her chest, the criss-cross bruises on her forearm showing in stark relief against her pale skin. Eames couldn't take his eyes off of them. "I'm not. He's letting you figure out what you want. He's not planning to charge in and rescue you from yourself."
"But you want to."
Ariadne threw up her hands. "Eames! What happened that was so awful?"
He looked at her calmly. "There's nothing to tell. Maybe you should talk to Arthur..."
Though the three of them had only just woken up that morning, Ariadne pushed him back down on the bed. She straddled his waist to keep him pinned beneath her. "No. It's not his place to tell me what happened to you. He nearly got killed when that team got ambushed. He told me that much. But you have to tell me what happened to you."
Eames closed his eyes and let out a pained breath. "Nothing happened. We saw my cousin for help with paperwork, that's all."
Ariadne looked at him in confusion. "Your cousin?"
"Yeah. He got us papers. Nothing terrible happened."
"Then why were you so wound up when you got back? I thought someone shot at you."
"It would've been easier if someone had."
Eames didn't realize that he said the words aloud until Ariadne's expression changed. "Oh, Eames. The fact that your family sucks isn't something to hide. You can tell me anything."
He wanted to, he suddenly realized. It hadn't been a horrible thing for Arthur to find out little bits and pieces, so it likely wouldn't be horrible for her to find out, either. He licked his lips and sucked in a breath. "I brought Arthur to Cairo in case his identity was compromised. My cousin Spencer is an ambassador there, so I knew he could get us good identities." Eames paused. "He's not related to me by blood, but he's the only relative I can stand."
"Was that so hard?" Ariadne asked, gently running her hands over his chest.
"No," he admitted. "It's everything else that comes with it. I don't want to remember it if I don't have to."
Ariadne nodded, then reached over to grasp the arm tied with knots. "Then every time you think of that, look at this and think of me. Of us, the three of us."
"Yes, ma'am," Eames teased.
She laughed and kissed his mouth as the water in the bathroom shut off. "When you want to tell me the everything else, I'll listen. Only when you're ready, and only if it matters, okay?"
"What if I say it doesn't?"
"Then you better mean it," Ariadne replied, scratching at the laces she tied around his arm. "Now, remember... You're wearing this all day."
"So? There isn't a job to do..."
She smiled at him. "We're going sight seeing. You're playing tourist today, Eames."
"I'm what?"
"We're going out, we're going to see some sights." She scratched at the laces again and rolled her hips over his, feeling him start to grow hard. "We're going to know this is here, but no one else will. You're going to think of me tying it on," she said slowly, running her fingers over the skin inside the lattice of laces. "And you're going to think of what we'll do later." She smiled serenely before lowering herself down to give him a kiss. "So you'll remember that you belong to us."
Eames caught her in his arms and deepened the kiss. "You are wicked, Ariadne. God, I love that about you."
Ariadne wriggled out of his grasp and laughed. "I call the shower next!" she said gleefully as Arthur came out of the bathroom. "Somehow, I think you'll need the cold shower," she added with a playful wink.
"Devious," Eames called out after her. Laughing, she headed into the bathroom to take a shower. Still lying on the bed, he couldn't help but smile at the ceiling. His arm tingled a little from the laces, but she was right. He was thinking of her kiss and her wet heat already, and the feel of Arthur's hands over his skin.
It was going to be a long day.
***
The three of them didn't hit all of the usual tourist traps, which surprised Eames. When Ariadne had said that they would play tourists, he had assumed that they would see the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre or Montmartre. Instead, Ariadne took them to all of her favorite shops and cafes from when she was a student, as well as parks where she used to sketch her ideas for classes. It was while they were sprawled across the grass with the sun beating down on them that Eames realized what Ariadne meant by all of this. It was ordinary. This was the life she and Arthur had between jobs. This was new to him, so this was his sight seeing. This was what being a tourist was about today. He was visiting a quieter kind of life, the life they wanted him to lead with them.
Ariadne laughed and pointed up at the sky. "That looks like a duck, doesn't it?" she asked Arthur, referring to a cloud rolling by above them. "Remember from that job we did, the one in Athens?" Arthur squinted against the sharp afternoon sunlight and then suddenly laughed along with her. It was a deep, rich sound, unrestrained by work concerns. This was Arthur in his ordinary life, when he wasn't busy being the consummate point man.
Eames turned to look at them, then pushed himself up onto an elbow. He could feel the bootlaces digging into his skin and relished the pressure. "I don't get the joke."
"There was this mark," Arthur began with a grin, "I swear, it wasn't a joke at all, but he was obsessed with ducks."
"Not just ducks, though," Ariadne chimed in. "You know, not a hunter or anything. But rubber ducks, like the kind kids have in the bathtub. Those kinds of ducks. And oh my God, Eames, you should've seen that level, it was ridiculous."
Arthur laughed again, shaking his head and rolling to his side to grin at Ariadne. "It was a gorgeous job. The entire layout was nothing but ducks, and the maze was inside of a duck, in the shape of a duck, and the safe was even shaped like a duck."
"I swear, if you had come out of that one quacking, I would've smacked you."
Eames laughed at the amusement they had remembering it. "That sounds like a trip."
"The man was crazy," Arthur agreed with a grin.
"Not clinically, but crazy enough," Ariadne said with a smile. There was a sad edge to it, and Eames ran his fingertips over her lips gently. Her eyes brightened when she took in his expression, and she cupped his cheek with her hand. "You are a bundle of contradictions, aren't you?"
"He'll take that as a compliment," Arthur chimed in dryly. "Don't encourage him."
Eames snorted and laughed when Arthur hit his shoulder playfully. "Hey. I'm still wounded, here."
"Oh, you're fine," Arthur told him dismissively as Ariadne giggled between them. "Nothing keeps you down very long, does it?"
His tone was light, so Eames knew that Arthur wasn't picking on him. "Suppose so," he replied with a shrug. "No point in thinking about what can't be helped."
Ariadne slipped her hand beneath the edge of Eames' shirt. "Those are very good words to live by," she declared. "Most of the time, anyway." She grinned when Eames looked down at her. "Go on, give him a kiss."
"People are watching," Eames replied.
She laughed. "Do you care?"
He considered that for a moment. "No, I don't." He pulled Arthur close for a kiss, smiling when he heard Ariadne's giggles. "Like that?" he asked Arthur, mouths still pressed together.
"Yeah, I do," Arthur replied, eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. "You should do that more often."
Eames found that he liked Arthur's smile. He'd seen the absentminded ones before, of course, but this one was because of him. He liked that. He liked being the center of someone's attention for positive reasons, for who he was instead of who he was pretending to be. Grinning, Eames pulled Arthur in for another kiss, sliding his tongue into his mouth. Arthur made a soft sound as he ran a hand along Eames' shoulders.
"This view is fantastic," Ariadne said appreciatively, propping herself up on her elbows. The men broke their kiss and smiled at her. "What? It is!"
"C'mere," Eames growled, moving his arm and pulling her up against them. It was a sloppy three way kiss, and they all laughed as they had to stick out their tongues to touch each other.
"I think kissing was not meant for more than two people," Arthur decided, grinning at them.
"I think this means we need more practice," Ariadne declared.
"I think we should head back to the apartment," Eames offered.
Ariadne laughed. "Nope. We're taking our time and relaxing." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Savor the anticipation, Eames," she murmured softly against his ear. "We're going to make it worth your while."
"Ben." It slipped out before he had meant to say anything about it. "The name I was born with was Benjamin," Eames said slowly, seeing comprehension dawn in Ariadne's eyes. "Everything else changed at least a dozen times, if not more. I lost count. But Benjamin was my name first. My father gave it to me. You should know that."
Her smile was painfully sweet, that lovestruck one she could get. "Thank you for telling me." She leaned over and kissed his temple. "Ben," she whispered against his ear. She licked the outer edge of his ear. "We're going to have so much fun tonight, Benjamin."
He suppressed a shiver as memories collided with the present. "We are?" he asked playfully, taking in Arthur's content look.
"Oh, yes," Ariadne replied, pulling back so he could see her grinning face. "We're going to have matching marks, you know."
That gave Eames pause. "We will, won't we?" he murmured, letting that sink in. He turned to look at Arthur. "You need marks, too, then."
Arthur shrugged. "Ariadne's already marked me. We can do it again if you want."
"She did?"
"That was an accident, Arthur," Ariadne said in severe tones. Eames leaned forward and nuzzled her neck to hide the rush of desire that shot through him at the sound of her voice. He pressed his weight harder onto his tied forearm, feeling the bite of the knots digging into his skin. Her voice and Arthur's sigh were tied to that sensation now.
"She cut me with that little knife she uses to make models," Arthur said, ducking her playful smack on the arm. "See that? She gets aggressive!" he teased. "That's how I got cut. It was a gouge, Ariadne, admit it. I actually had to see that asshole Sebastien to put in stitches."
"It was an accident!" she cried indignantly, and Eames chuckled against her neck. "I cut my hands all the time and I don't complain about it!"
"Stitches, Ariadne," Arthur taunted, scuttling back slightly to dodge her kick. "You only nick yourself. I needed four stitches."
"Really? Where?" Eames asked, turning to look at him. He hadn't noticed scars on Arthur's body before. Then again, he hadn't been looking for them.
"Outside of my elbow," Arthur answered, running his fingers over where the stitches had been on his left arm. "It's a faint scar."
"I'll make you one to match if you're jealous," Ariadne teased, nudging Eames.
"Let's see how tonight's marks work out first," Eames replied, seizing her mouth in a kiss. She responded enthusiastically as Arthur chuckled. "What?"
"I like seeing you this way," Arthur told him, grinning so that dimples showed. "You're relaxed and happy. That's the way it should be."
Eames smiled at them fondly. "Want me to show you just how happy I can be?" he teased.
"After we're done for the day," Ariadne declared. She rolled out from under Eames' arms and got to her feet. "Come on. There's another square I want to show you, and this fabulous restaurant we should go to for dinner. Then we can have fun."
"Yes, Mistress," Eames snarked.
She merely grinned and pulled him to his feet. "Damn straight."
***
Dinner was at a loud bistro with a band in the Quartier Latin. The food was rich and flavorful, the wine was heady and they were all telling each other silly stories about their travels. Ariadne wasn't as well traveled, but she made up for it with stories about her classmates from college and architecture school. She had gone overseas as soon as she graduated from high school, and had attended university in Grenoble before coming to Paris. "I couldn't make up my mind," she admitted, leaning into Eames' personal space. Arthur was on his other side, and he had grasped the bound arm tightly in his hand a few times. That had sparked heat in his belly, low and insistent. "I was going to study art history, something like that at first. I wanted to be a museum curator or something. It sounded so glamorous when I was in high school. I mean, I was only fourteen at the time, you understand."
"I thought American schools went until eighteen," Eames said, sliding his hand along her thigh.
She grinned at him. "I skipped grades, so I graduated when I was fifteen. How else could I get my Ph.D. so young? Besides, I wanted to get the hell out the house, and college was a great excuse, you know? It was an adventure. I mean, I was going to France!"
"You're drunk," Arthur told her with a fond smile. "No more wine for you," he said, pulling the wine bottle away from her side of the table.
"Oh no," Ariadne pouted. "How come you get to keep drinking, then?"
"Larger body mass," Arthur declared.
"In that case, I should get more than you," Eames told him, taking the wine bottle and finishing it off. "I've got more muscle."
"Is that what you call it?" Arthur snarked.
Ariadne giggled, her cheeks flushed pink. Eames gave in to the urge to tousle her hair and she laughed outright. The bistro was loud enough that no one glared at them for being noisy; Eames supposed that most students were loud and obnoxious here. It was probably why she chose it.
"I'll show you what I've got, darling," Eames drawled, leaning into Arthur.
"Promises, promises," he returned with a smile.
Ariadne pulled at her sleeves a bit so that they wouldn't drag across her plate as she reached for the salt. Eames could see the bruises on her skin, fading from the night before. "Do you think mine would last longer than that?" he asked, tracing the edge of the pattern.
Her lips quirked. "We can hope."
Eames couldn't remember how they got back to the apartment, and he surreptitiously checked his pocket watch. The hands didn't move, and he tossed it on the bedside table. He knew that Arthur's die and Ariadne's bishop were in the drawer. They didn't need to check that this was real, but he wanted the extra reassurance.
He stood in the doorway from the bathroom clad only in his open button down shirt and socks watching Arthur devour Ariadne with his mouth. He was sliding her dress from her shoulders, letting the fabric puddle around her feet. Eames strode forward and unhooked her bra, then slid his hands around her torso to stoke her breasts. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Arthur's temple. Ariadne blindly reached out to grasp the arm still bound with the bootlaces, her grip tight. It pressed the knots deeply into his skin, and Eames flew out a breath in frustration. He wanted one of them, both of them, either one. He wanted them now, but he would wait because Ariadne had told him to. It was hard to think with her grip on the knots and laces, her body pressed up against his erection and their little humming noises of contentment.
"I've been good all day, haven't I?" he rasped when he couldn't take it anymore.
"Someone's impatient," Arthur teased, letting one hand slide from Ariadne's arm to his shoulder.
"You've been very good," Ariadne said with a smile. "I think we should reward that."
"Oh? Which one of us gets to fuck him?" Arthur asked, his lips curling into a sensual smile that set Eames' blood to boiling.
"I think we both should." Ariadne sounded so pleased with herself that Eames nearly laughed at the sound. She turned around between them and looked up at Eames with a sensual smile. "And we're all going to enjoy every second of it."
Ariadne worked on undoing the knots and laces, and Arthur was at Eames' other side. Their clothes were shed in stages, and Arthur's mouth attached to his bicep. He was across from Ariadne, working at the skin and muscle with his mouth and tongue and teeth; Eames could tell he would have a dark hickey there soon enough. The thought excited him actually, and he turned his head to kiss Arthur's shoulder. "God, yes," he whispered against Arthur's soft skin. "Mark it harder."
"Don't forget about me," Ariadne said, a smile obvious in her voice. Eames turned to look at her bent over his arm, her fingers deftly untying the knots and leaving behind indented bruises in an elaborate pattern that almost looked like a tattoo. She raked her nails across the sensitive skin and Eames could only suck in a partial breath. "Oh, yes, you like this, don't you?" Eames could only nod. She got the last of the bootlaces off, then raked her nails down the length of his arm. Her smile was slow and sensual, a side of her that others didn't get to see. "And this?" she asked, raking her nails down his chest.
"Oh, yes," Eames breathed.
Arthur finally lifted his mouth from Eames' bicep to rake his nails down Eames' chest. "I think we should fuck him at the same time," he said to Ariadne.
Her eyes were smoldering, and Eames wanted to worship the ground she walked on. "You want this, don't you?" she asked, voice soft as she traced the marks on his skin. "You want us to pin you down and fuck you until you can't even breathe. You want it so bad..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she ran her hand down his stomach. She cupped his erection in her hands, stroking the skin with her thumb. "You want inside me, don't you?"
"Ariadne," Eames began, trailing his fingers over her bared stomach.
"And Arthur," she continued, nodding firmly. "At the same time, so all you know is us, all you feel is us."
Arthur was already reaching for the bottle of lube and spreading it across his fingers. His smile was tender, and it took Eames' breath away. "We'll take care of you, you know," he said, voice sure as ever. Eames hadn't doubted that. He sucked in an anticipatory breath as Arthur slid the first finger into him. Ariadne's nails scored lines across the bruises on his arm, and her mouth went down his chest. She kissed the slight welts their nails had made on his chest, and Eames let out a soft little moan. He reached for Arthur, grasping his bare hip tightly. "Just let us do this, Eames. Relax and enjoy this, hm?"
Ariadne's mouth was soft and warm and wet when she took Eames into it, and he gasped in pleasure. He arched into their touch, gasping and moaning as Arthur slid another finger inside him and Ariadne's tongue traveled the length of his cock. She sucked and licked at him until he was fully erect, then she scratched at the bruises again. It was a sharp, hard kind of pain, and it reminded him of the feeling in his arm when he laid over it in the park. "Please," he found himself whimpering softly, not even knowing what he was saying. "Please, I'll be good, I'll do anything, please..."
She moved up to look at him, concern in her eyes. "Eames? Ben?"
"Ariadne," he whispered, reaching for her. "I love you so much it hurts."
Arthur crooked his fingers, making Eames arch and gasp at the pleasure shooting through him. "It doesn't have to," he said softly.
"You're just a pain in the arse," Eames growled, a playful lilt to his lips.
"Oh, am I?" Arthur asked calmly, smiling in return. He crooked his fingers again, laughing when Eames jumped and howled.
"I love you, too, all right?"
Arthur laughed and grabbed a pillow. "Here. Let's get this under your hips for a bit of height."
Eames let his fingers run along Ariadne's torso. She shivered at the contact, her eyes like molten gold as she looked over him hungrily. "Height for what?"
He did what they told him, and watched Arthur's eyes darken as well. He knelt between Eames' spread legs, rolling a condom on. "To fuck you, of course," Arthur told him with a smirk. "So it's comfortable for all three of us at once."
Ariadne rolled a condom onto Eames' cock and straddled his waist. She sank down slowly over him, her hands flat on his chest. Once she was settled, Arthur slowly slid into Eames as well. He wound one arm around Ariadne, his fingers cupping her breast. The other touched Eames' hip. "Everyone okay?" Ariadne asked, her voice a little breathless.
"Yeah," Eames said shakily, looking up at the two of them. There was such love in their faces that it took his breath away. He almost hadn't believed this could be possible, for all that they were serious about it. He wondered why it had taken him two months to realize this was real.
They moved slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm that suited all three of them. Ariadne giggled when she nearly fell over onto Eames, and she grasped his bruised arm for balance. He nearly whimpered at the onslaught of sensation, and tilted his hips up toward them. Ariadne let out a pleased sigh, pushing herself harder down over him. She was starting to move faster, harder, her breath coming in shorter gasps. Arthur pinched a nipple between his fingers and pressed kisses along her shoulder. His other hand was tight on Eames' thigh, pulling himself further into Eames with every thrust. Eames couldn't withstand the two of them for long, and cried out as he came. Ariadne came soon after he did, and Arthur finished last, nearly collapsing onto Ariadne.
The three of them were a tangled, sticky mess on the bed, and Eames could only laugh shakily as he saw the bruises on both of his arms. "I can't ever thank you enough for these," he said softly, touching one and then the other. There was reverence there, and Ariadne propped herself up on one elbow to look at his rapt expression. Arthur watched him with large eyes, moving to sit up.
"Sometimes it's not enough to say that you belong to someone," Eames said softly. He sat up, facing Ariadne. Arthur shifted position as she sat up as well, coming closer to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes you need a visible reminder of this, something to carry with you when it's hard to remember what really matters."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, curious.
"Edgar... My stepfather," Eames clarified at Ariadne's confused look. "He... He said he marked me. That no matter what I did, where I went, I'd always be his. I couldn't escape him."
Ariadne held his hands between hers. She squeezed them slightly, not saying a word yet. Eames wasn't quite done, and she had the feeling that if she said anything, the spell would be broken and he would never say another word about it. Arthur was just as silent behind him, arms around Eames' torso in support, his chin on Eames' shoulder. Eames could only look at their twined hands.
"I tried to tell Mum. She thought I was trying to destroy her life. She thought I was a liar. She wanted her posh little life and her storybook children. She didn't want me, so she sent me away."
Arthur pressed his lips to Eames' neck and Ariadne picked up their hands to kiss Eames' knuckles. "We're still here," Arthur murmured gently.
"He was right, though. Edgar. I could never get far enough away. I was the liar Mum thought me to be, and I couldn't get away. He'd marked me."
Ariadne pressed her mouth against the pattern of knots and lines in Eames' skin. "And this?"
Eames looked up at her with bleak eyes. "How did you know I needed this?"
"You needed to know you belong with us," Ariadne said softly. "Not to the past, not to anyone else. Just us."
Eames cupped Ariadne's face with one hand. "Edgar's dead, but he's not gone. He..."
Ariadne covered his lips with one hand. "Sh. Are you ready to tell us?"
"I don't know," he said, his voice lost.
"Then wait until you know." Arthur's arms tightened around Eames as Ariadne spoke. "We can wait. We don't have to hear it now."
"What if I never tell you?"
"Then you don't," Arthur said simply, shrugging against his back. "That's not why we're together. I told you. It's not because of contacts or information or what we can get from you." He dropped a kiss onto the back of Eames' neck. "We love you. No matter what did or didn't happen in the past, no matter what you tell us."
"Why doesn't this change things? Why don't you think less of me?" Eames asked softly.
"Whatever happened wasn't your fault," Ariadne said softly. "Parents are supposed to protect their children, not break them apart. Believe me, I know." There was a soft and awful kind of knowledge in her voice, as if she really did know.
"He said I was the only reason he stayed," Eames said abruptly. "That if I wasn't good, he'd leave Mum. Then when Jess and Thad came along, he said he'd hurt them."
"Too bad he's dead," Arthur said, his voice hard and edged.
"What?" Eames asked as Ariadne nodded. "Why?"
"Can't kill a dead man," he replied, shrugging.
"There's dreams," Ariadne said helpfully, "but that's a kind of creepy. I don't think we should do that."
Eames blinked in surprise. No one had offered to kill someone for him for purely personal reasons before. "You mean that, don't you?" he asked. "You believe me."
"Of course we do," Ariadne said, voice soft.
"You'd never lie about something like that," Arthur said.
Eames grasped them both tightly. "Thank you."
Neither asked for what. They simply held him and kissed him, giving silent support. Maybe he would say more at some point, maybe he wouldn't. He felt as if a weight had lifted, as if he wasn't as horrible as he'd always thought he was. He knew them; they could never love someone unworthy. Ariadne had marked him as hers, and Arthur had as well. They trusted him, and not just on the job. He wasn't used to that, but he wanted to be. He wanted to be more than the empty-souled liar he always thought he was. He wanted to be worthy of them, whatever that meant. It probably meant not hiding behind masks, not lying to himself anymore.
For them, he could do it. For them, he could do anything.
The End