Annihilating Deception. NC-17
Title: Annihilating Deception
Series: #4 in Walking In Truth.
(#1 - An Undivided Heart , #2 - That Can Be Counted, #3 - Only Opportunity)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur, Ariadne/Eames, Ariadne/Eames/OFC
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 NSFW picture prompt in round 19. Also, there are really squidgy emotional manipulations in this. Even I'm not entirely comfortable with how they're acting...
Summary: She hadn't really thought her relationship with Eames was exclusive, so she started something with Arthur, too. Eleanor didn't always think things through.
Can you know anything other than deception? If ever the deception is annihilated, you must not look in that direction or you will turn into a pillar of salt.
- Franz Kafka
The lovely thing about a country in the middle of financial and political upheaval was that most police or intelligence agencies could be bribed to look the other way. The woman that used to be a CIA agent didn't think twice about this reality, or that she was helping to spread greed and corruption within an already unstable environment. Former agent Eleanor Lewis had been maintaining the identity of Lily Wellner to stay off of the CIA's radar for several months now. Most of that time had been spent in Mombasa with Eames, and she had been learning the ins and outs of Yusuf's dream den business as well as the nuances of dream share. She had started sharing Eames' bed weeks after she had joined him on a long con in Europe, and it had been every bit the heady and sensual experience she had thought it would be.
Two months ago, three men had broken into his apartment looking for him. Because Eames had been out of the country on a job, she'd killed them herself. When she hadn't picked up the phone, he had contacted Arthur to check in on her and help her. With the three men already dead, Arthur had helped her get rid of the bodies. Lily had pulled a very willing Arthur into bed that night, and for several nights after.
Eames had been relieved to hear from her, but she hadn't told him about the shift in her relationship with Arthur. He had time left before he was due back in Mombasa, so Arthur started looking into a job that needed both a point man and an architect. Eames thought it was a good ploy for Lily to get out of Mombasa, at least until some of the heat surrounding Eames had died down.
That was only part of the reason.
Arthur had taken Ariadne to a number of restaurants and romantic places in Mombasa while getting his research together. As soon as he got the go ahead, he booked the flight to Athens for the both of them. Ariadne enjoyed visiting the tourist areas in the city, as well as the room they shared. She couldn't get enough of Arthur, rolling him beneath her or urging him to take her hard and fast every chance they got.
That particular day, they were meeting one of Arthur's contacts at the Parthenon. It was a very public place, which should limit the chances that he would do anything stupid.
As it turned out, Arthur's contact wasn't the problem. It was Nikos' competitors, who were hoping to get rid of the extractor and his entire network.
They didn't expect Arthur and Lily to both be armed. Greece had strict gun control laws, and it was a requirement for each handgun to have a specific and unique identifying mark on it. The average Greek citizen needed special authorization to own a pistol or semi-automatic, but it also depended on just how law-abiding those citizens were. In tough economic times, the offer of large bribes meant that Arthur and Lily both had their choice of weapons. Arthur had opted for the familiar Glock 17, and Lily had gone for a HK P7.
Most of the necessary information had been exchanged by the time Nikos' competitors had shown up, and so Nikos got away quickly. Lily laid down cover fire as Arthur picked off the vehicles that the men had come in. One or two were wounded as they tried to run after them; since the Fischer job, Lily had spent more hours on real life ranges and dream ranges to be sure she wouldn't miss a shot. She hadn't been aiming to kill, only to maim, and it worked. They got away in the chaos, slipping down several side streets until they approached the spot where Arthur had parked.
Laughing, Arthur pulled Lily into the rental car and began to drive. There was something exhilarating about getting away with illegalities, something about the heady rush of adrenaline and knowing that they'd made it. She laid her hand on his thigh, her chest heaving as she laughed, still calming down from the rush. Arthur drove to a hole-in-the-wall of an alleyway and put the car in park; as soon as he cut the engine he lunged for her mouth.
Their tongues tangled together and Lily threaded her fingers into his hair to keep him there as she licked into his mouth possessively. Arthur's hands were on her blouse, kneading her breasts through the fabric and padding of her bra. Nimbly, he undid the buttons and then broke the kiss to nuzzle at the exposed skin once he pulled apart the halves of her blouse. "God, yeah," Lily groaned, letting one hand roam down his back. She could feel the flex of the muscles in his back and shoulders, could picture what it would look like without that shirt.
They were bumping into the console as they moved, and finally Arthur pulled back to look at her. "Back seat?"
Lily laughed in delighted anticipation. "Yeah," she said, a husky undertone to her voice. She brushed her fingers across Arthur's kiss-swollen lips, grinning madly at him. "I want you right now."
"Perfect."
It was easier to just get out of the car and slide into the empty backseat. Lily shucked the blouse as soon as she sat down and grinned unrepentantly at Arthur's amused chuckle. It was a little more difficult for him to remove his own shirt, but he managed to do it and only bang his hands into the roof twice. He pushed her onto her back and devoured her mouth again, one hand cupping a breast and pulling at her nipple. It was a touch harder than she ordinarily liked, but his thigh between hers rubbed deliciously at her clit. His other hand held some of his weight off of her, and Lily tried to shove one hand down the back of his pants, sliding around the curve of his ass. With a frustrated curse, Arthur reared up long enough to unbutton and unzip, and Lily pulled it all down as far as she could go. Then she undid her own slacks. They managed to get her out of her clothes, though her panties stuck to her a little and they kept bumping into the front seat or roof of the car.
Lily couldn't help but laugh. This was utterly ridiculous and stupid. They had a perfectly good hotel room with a sprawling king sized bed, soft sheets and climate control. Here they were anyway in a stuffy car, banging into everything they could possibly bang into. She hadn't even done anything like this as a fumbling teenager.
But then Arthur's fingers slid into her, stretching her, thumb hard at her clit and mouth coming down over hers again. She grasped his cock and started to stroke him, getting him harder and ready for her. "I want you inside me," she said into his mouth, "I want you to fuck me so hard I can't remember what name I'm using."
Arthur had some of her hair fisted in his hand, and he tugged sharp enough for it to sting a little as she exposed the smooth column of her neck to him. "You're mine," he growled against her neck, fingers pumping hard inside of her. "Say it. Tell me you're mine."
"God, yes," she moaned, arching into his touch. "I'm yours, Arthur, now, now, make me come."
A slight twist of his wrist gave more pressure to his thrusts, and she bucked her hips against his hand. Her own tightened almost painfully around his cock, but he didn't mind that. That kept him from coming as she clamped down around his fingers, close but not quite at orgasm yet. She mewled in protest as he withdrew his fingers, though her lips parted and her eyes widened with want as she watched him lick his fingers clean. He reached between their bodies to slowly slide into her wet heat, then backed out almost to the tip. Just when Lily would have protested, Arthur slammed forward into her, her head hitting the car door. He grimaced and they had to shift position slightly on the back seat. Ultimately, Arthur had to sprawl across her form, feet digging into the door for leverage. Lily kept her legs drawn up high, nearly to her chest to give him access, and then he thrust hard and fast into her. She grasped his ass with one hand as the other clutched at his back. He grunted with the effort, and she kept her eyes shut to revel in the feel of him. She tuned out the awkward position and the way the fabric of the seat rubbed at her back. This was Arthur and he was inside her, fucking her in a car on a side street where someone might see them, and she didn't care.
Lily came with a sharp cry, legs shaking. She let them slide down Arthur's hips, her legs brushing down the length of his. "Come for me," she gasped, opening her eyes to see his intense gaze watching her. "Arthur..."
A few more strokes had him gritting his teeth and throwing his head back, which was pretty much a sure sign that he was close. She clenched her inner muscles, making him hiss and his cock jerk inside of her.
"I feel like I'm fucking fifteen again," Arthur said with a laugh after collapsing on top of her. "Shit, that was amazing."
"Back to the hotel for more?" Lily offered with a smile.
"Absolutely." His grin was infectious and adorable. Sticky with sweat and come, they hastily dressed and headed to their hotel room. There would soon be a job to do. In the meantime, there was the bed, floor, showers, and counters.
***
When the job was done, Arthur and Lily split up. He planned to head back Stateside for a visit with his family, and Lily didn't feel comfortable with the idea of spending time in the US just yet. She could tolerate defecting from the CIA if she was an expat, but felt odd about being in the country with an alias. She was sure that in time that feeling would go away.
She dialed Eames' cell number, and he picked up right away. Lily could hear him breathing oddly for a moment after she greeted him, and her brows furrowed. "Eames?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Just... Lost it for a mo', is all." There was something in his voice she couldn't place, something that sounded raw and painful.
"Job is done, so I'm leaving Athens."
"Arthur with you?" he asked, that raw edge still in his voice.
"No, he's visiting his parents. I'm coming home, Eames."
"You are." His voice was flat, making Lily frown. "I see."
"Is someone there, Eames? You don't sound right."
"No, I don't suppose I do," he said slowly. He blew out a breath slowly, and she could imagine him with his lips pursed and fingers running through his blond hair. "What time is your flight, then? I'll make sure everything's ready when you get back."
"Ready?" she teased. "Did you throw a party or something while I was away? There isn't much to wreck in that place."
"You'd be surprised."
Lily frowned deeply, though Eames couldn't see her expression. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked quietly, concern thick in her voice.
"Just come back to Mombasa," Eames said tiredly.
She relayed her flight information and she knew he had it committed to memory. She knew better than to ask again if he was all right, though she had the feeling that something was Not Right with him. He wouldn't say anything until he was ready to, preferring to dance around a subject and appear cool and collected. Even after hanging up, she stared at her phone for a while, hoping he was all right. She didn't know what she would do if he wasn't.
***
It wasn't odd that Eames didn't meet Lily at the gate. It was odd that he didn't at least have a car waiting for her, or a cab of some kind. She thought she saw Yang from the casino, who was one of Eames' trusted associates, but couldn't be sure. Lily ultimately caught a cab from the airport to the apartment, tipping fairly but not too generously, and let herself into the apartment. It seemed to be in the same condition that she had left it in, so she doubted that there had been any serious disasters rolling through the area after she'd left for Athens.
Lily thought she heard some faint noises in the bedroom, and dropped her bag down on the couch in the living room. She pushed open the door to the bedroom and couldn't breathe at the sight in front of her.
Eames had his back to the door, kneeling on the bed and fucking a girl with caramel colored skin, dark curly hair, large breasts and long legs wrapped around his waist. She made high keening noises, back arched and her head all but buried in pillows. Eames was fucking into her with careful precision, driving her over the edge without coming himself. Lily knew how that felt, to be on the receiving end of such attention.
Her gut tightened painfully, and she made a choking sound of despair.
He turned at the sound, eyes harder than she had seen them in a long time. His jaw was clenched tight, and she doubted it was because he was trying to keep from coming. "You're back," he said without inflection. "How was your flight?"
Lily somehow staggered forward. It didn't make sense, given that she didn't know how she was even still breathing. They'd never really defined the thing between them, but did admit that they mattered to each other. They'd never discussed being exclusive, and she had watched him flirt with just about everyone in front of her. While she had expected this to happen on some level, seeing it hurt her deeply. Eames looked just as pained, for all that he was buried balls deep in another woman.
He reached out and grasped her arm when she took another few stunned steps. Eames kissed her roughly, tasting of hurt and desire all tangled together. "Welcome home, darling."
"What's this?" she rasped, pulling herself out of his grasp. Lily knew she had to pull herself together, but somehow she couldn't quite manage that.
Eames' smile was a baring of teeth that could very well have been considered a threat. "I got you a treat."
Lily flicked her eyes dismissively across the girl's writhing form. "I don't swing that way."
"There's a lot of things you never did before," Eames taunted. "What's one more thing? You've already fallen, darling." He bared his teeth again. "Don't say I never got you anything."
The girl looked over at her, eyes glassy with lust and drugs. She reached out and grasped Lily's leg, saying something rapidly in another language. It wasn't Spanish but was likely related to it, maybe Italian or Portuguese. Eames grinned in response and answered, something that sounded like an affirmative. Lily wondered if they were teasing her, calling her a coward for not simply stripping off her clothes and joining in.
"Eames..."
"Join us, darling," he crooned, moving his hand from her arm to stroke a breast. "She'll fuck you. It's not like you have to do anything to her."
Almost involuntarily, Lily's eyes were drawn to where their bodies were joined, Eames' sheathed cock sliding in and out of the girl with obscene squelching sounds. The sight of the condom was like a kick in the pants; they never needed to use anything to prevent pregnancy because of her shots, so he had to have planned this out ahead of time. He'd planned to have her walk in and find him fucking another woman, planned to rip her heart out of her chest and pit it on a stake.
Eames' hand slid down her torso and grasped her hip tightly. "Just another fuck, darling." The endearment sounded bitter to Lily's ears. "She'll fuck you hard enough to make you see stars if you let it happen, and you don't even have to say please."
"Why are you doing this?" Lily rasped, voice breaking.
There wasn't triumph in his eyes when he looked at her. "Not pleased with your welcome home present?" he taunted. "And I worked so hard to find you something you might like."
She pulled her hand back to slap him, but he caught her wrist and pulled her closer to kiss her mouth again.
This had to be because she had been sleeping with Arthur. Instead of saying something, he had decided to throw this in her face. Fine, then. Two could play this game, even if she didn't know the rules. It's not like that had ever really stopped her before. Lily kissed him back with the same fervor he was kissing her.
Defiantly, Lily pulled away and shed her clothes. Eames' eyes raked hungrily over her form, and he extended one hand to help her clamber up onto the bed. The girl grinned and said something that was probably meant to be reassuring, reaching out to help Lily position herself over the girl's waiting mouth. There was a flash of anxiety at the pressure of the girl's hands on her hips, guiding her down, but Lily pushed that away as she looked up at Eames. It sounded awful, but the girl didn't matter. She hated the way Eames was making her feel at that moment, small and petty and stupid. Being with Arthur had made her feel as if she could accomplish anything. She hated Eames then, and was willing to push whatever buttons she could in order to hurt him back.
Eames grasped the back of her head and kissed her hard and fast on the mouth as the girl licked an experimental stripe along her parted folds. Lily had to lean forward a bit and grabbed hold of one of the girl's breasts to keep her balance. The girl gave a happy little hum and set to work, licking at Lily clit and folds enthusiastically, stroking her hips. Eames picked up his former rhythm, slamming into the girl even as he kept kissing Lily and stroking her breasts.
She kept her eyes closed and gave herself over to the sensations. Eames was licking into Lily's mouth as he held her in place, not allowing her to rear back or run from this. She had one of her hands on the girl's breast, pinching the nipple and making her moan in pleasureLily rocked her hips a little, then moved her hand to stroke the girl's stomach. She was falling, colliding with tangled emotions she couldn't name. The pleasure they were taking in her body was exquisite, but she felt hollow at the same time.
She'd made a mistake somewhere, but couldn't figure out what she had done.
Lily shuddered as the girl's tongue swirled and stroked her, making her dance on the edge of an orgasm. Eames pinched her nipple lightly as he moved to lick the outer shell of her ear, making her gasp and grind down on the girl's mouth. She dug her fingers into Eames' shoulder, gasping that she was close, she was close, dear God, she wanted him so much.
She didn't hate him at all. She couldn't.
Eames watched her and held her torso upright when she finally let go and came with a cry. He held her as the girl flattened her tongue against Lily's clit, helping her come down from the orgasm. His touch was tender as he helped her lie down on the bed, then he left to clean himself up. Lily turned her face away from the girl as she curled up beside her. Lily felt disconnected as she watched the girl lean down to kiss and suckle a breast. When Eames returned, Lily turned her face up to his. She was fairly certain she had a pained expression there, but couldn't be sure. She felt raw somehow, not herself.
What the hell was she doing? Of course this was happening. She didn't know how not to fuck things up. He hadn't believed her when she had tried to explain. Lily couldn't make any kind of relationship work, she simply couldn't do it. Somehow she was flawed, and she should never have expected this to turn out any different.
God, what a mess she had made of things. Did she destroy everything she loved?
Love.
Lily made a soft choking sound at the thought, but it coincided with Eames dipping his head down to take a breast into his mouth, the one the girl hadn't suckled. The girl was moving faster over Lily's leg, her fingers moving at an almost punishing pace. Lily ran her hands along Eames' back and shoulders, reaching down as far as she could go.
Eames shifted position abruptly, and Lily found herself looking up at him in confusion. He nudged the girl and said something to her. She moved, pouting, but let Eames position himself so that Lily could take him into her mouth. "Would you?" he asked, expression more like a mask.
Even though she knew he would taste like latex and spermicide, she opened her mouth and guided him into her mouth. She ran her hands along his hips and ass, focusing on the feel of his skin rather than the taste. He'd washed off most of it, at least. It took a moment for Lily to realize that the girl had moved off to the side, watching them avidly and fingering herself to come. She flicked her eyes back up toward Eames, whose head was thrown back with his eyes shut. He made a soft sound deep in his throat as she worked him erect in her mouth. "Eleanor," he choked out after a few more minutes, pulling out of her mouth. He moved and pushed inside her slick body. His eyes were locked to hers, and he moved slowly at first, savoring the feel of her.
At some point the girl did more than just watch. She touched and licked at either of them, helping to draw up Lily's legs high around Eames' waist. She moved to press kisses along Lily's thigh before moving to Eames' ass. Lily could only guess that she rimmed Eames, because his eyes closed and he tilted his head back slightly. He made a soft pleased sound as he shifted a little above her, lips curling up into a familiar smile. She remembered the way he had looked when she first fingered him, and this was the same expression.
The girl moved to run her tongue along Lily's flesh, ultimately swirling her tongue around the puckered rear opening. Lily grasped Eames tightly; the added stimulus wasn't good or bad, but she was close to coming anyway just from Eames thrusting into her. "Eames," she whimpered, her inner muscles clenching down around his cock. "I'm close, I'm close, please..."
He snapped his hips faster, and the girl backed away to watch him fuck Lily. She licked her lips, watching Lily thrash about on the bed beneath Eames before arching her back as she came. Her hands tightened and twitched, nails scoring welts into Eames' arms.
Lily lay there beneath him as he continued, teeth grit. She could feel him twitch slightly inside her, so he had to be close. She clenched her muscles tighter, making him hiss and jerk against her body. After the next twitch, she felt stickier and wetter and Eames sagged forward to lean heavily on his arms.
Eames didn't bother to clean up when he pulled out of her and collapsed down next to her on the bed. The girl was on the other side of him, petting the welts gently and murmuring in that language that Lily couldn't understand. She seemed vaguely disappointed but not terribly so, and gave a graceful one-shoulder shrug.
Lily rolled to the side and let them talk. She was hollow and awful and should have known better than to think things would be okay. She should never have fallen for his trap, for all that she had pushed him and hated him for this.
Time passed and Lily must have dozed off. She heard voices in the living room, and she could only assume it was Eames and the girl since they weren't in bed with her anymore. Tugging the soiled sheet from the bed, she gathered it up around her naked body. Eames had a pair of jeans slung low on his hips and the girl was dressed in a light sundress with nothing beneath it. Her hair was tied back, and she looked utterly lovely as she put on her sandals. She was laughing fondly at Eames as if he had just said something silly. Eames replied to whatever she said, and the only word that Lily could pick out of the exchange was "Nina," which she assumed was the girl's name.
Nina left without a backward glance, and Eames locked the door behind her. He paused when he saw Lily standing there in the doorway to the bedroom, sheet loosely wrapped around her. After a moment, he flashed her a winsome smile. "So. Did you enjoy your present?"
"What was that really about?" she asked, mouth dry and knees trembling inside the sheet. She had no idea why she was afraid of Eames as he approached. He wouldn't hurt her. He'd had ample opportunity before, yet never had. But he moved like a predator and she didn't recognize the glint in his eyes. She felt like Ariadne again, caught in his web and being cornered with her own lies and half-truths.
"Is it all a game?" he asked, voice level but with an odd inflection she couldn't name.
"Isn't it with you?" she tossed back, frustration in her tone.
"I told you what this was," he replied stiffly.
"No, you didn't," she snapped, covering her fear and frustration with anger. It was safer, easier to handle. Exes telling her she was a frigid bitch echoed in the back of her head, and she wanted to laugh until she cried. If only they could see her now. Everything she had once been was inverted and inside out. She barely recognized herself.
"I told you that this was important. That you were important."
"What is this about, Eames?" she asked, voice level despite her shaking knees. "Why are you doing this?"
He was in front of her now, and he grasped her arm tightly enough to bruise, his massive palm covering the scar on her left arm. "You fucked him in our bed, Eleanor," he hissed, anger and pain in his eyes. "I trusted you."
"We never said anything," she gasped, refusing to back down from his gaze. It was against every instinct, but she didn't try to wrench out of his grasp, fight back or hurl insults at him. "You said this mattered, whatever this was, and that it was important."
"Yes, I did," he told her gravely, his grip loosening fractionally.
"I thought you were lying to me."
It wasn't any one particular tell that Eames had that told Lily he was stunned. He didn't believe her admission, however truthful it was. "Why would I lie to you?"
"You've always lied to me," Lily murmured softly. No, Eleanor. She had tried to use the different identities as a shell to hide behind, as if she really could be a different person each time she changed passports. "You made me think this could be real, that I could live a life here that mattered. But I don't, not how it really counts."
"That's not true," he hissed, shaking her arm a little in frustration. "You are the only thing that matters."
"No, I don't," Eleanor said, nearly ashamed that her voice had dropped to a whisper. "I have nothing here but a collection of fake names and the hope that I didn't make an awful mistake."
Eames' eyes searched her face, as if he couldn't tell where to start to refute her statement. "You keep harping on names," he observed.
"Arthur's told me his real name and I met his family," Eleanor replied, looking at Eames with something almost like desperation. He was too calm, too collected; she had seen a similar mask on his face when he was beating someone half to death in a dream, and she had never thought she would see it directed at her. Her chest felt tight, and she wanted him to understand how she had felt these past few months, even if she couldn't fully articulate her own fears. "He's never made me feel like this is all a game, like I have to watch what I say or I'll fuck everything up. I'm not broken with him."
Shock was etched clearly on his features. Eames let her go and stepped back, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Her breath caught; this wasn't the reaction she thought she was going to get. "Goddammit, Eleanor," he said, finally turning back to look at her drawn features. "You're not broken. You've never been broken."
"Bullshit," Eleanor snapped, blinking furiously when the image of Eames seemed to waver in front of her. Fucking tears. She was better than that. She could put a bullet between a man's eyes from two hundred feet, slit someone's throat without someone realizing it was her, and could snap bones if she applied just enough pressure on the proper points. Just days before in Athens, she had dropped Nikos' competition without killing them. In this very apartment she had killed the men looking to murder Eames. She could get that right, yet somehow she couldn't get the waterworks to turn off where her personal life was concerned. "I'm only good on the job."
He strode back to her and pinned her to the wall at the sound of her raw voice. "You think he's given you anything?" Eames asked, his own voice just as pained. "Has he told you where he stays if he's not in the US? Does he tell you what his usual identities are? Has he brought you into his circle of contacts and had them work with you?" He watched as she blinked furiously, trying to figure out the answers to his questions. "I've given you everything of value that I have, Eleanor. It doesn't matter what name I was born with because that's not the man I am. You live in my home, and I've introduced you to the only family that matters to me." He gently cupped her face in his hands, as if he had only just realized how delicate she could be. "Family is more than just blood, more than just sharing the same name. I'd give you mine if you wanted it, Eleanor. If that's what you need."
She couldn't stop the tears that overflowed, and it felt like burning tracks down her cheeks. "I didn't think..."
"No, you didn't," he agreed solemnly when her voice trailed off.
They stood there for a long time, simply staring at each other, trying to assess what to do next.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," she whispered brokenly. You hurt me, too, she wanted to say. This evening had wounded her, and she couldn't even begin to guess how badly.
"You can only really hurt the ones you love," Eames murmured slowly, his hands coming to rest on the slope of her bare shoulders. He watched her try to wrap her head around that statement with no effort to conceal his own pain. "Isn't that right?" he asked gently.
Eleanor licked her lips, tasting the salt of her tears. Why didn't the ground ever swallow you up when you fucked up royally this way? Why did silence have to stretch out so painfully, breath caught in your chest as if it could make you explode? She didn't handle things like this well, never learned how. That was part of the allure of the law; it was supposed to be black and white, easy to follow, no room for error.
Since leaving the CIA, she had done nothing but screw up.
She didn't know what she could say or do to make this right, or what he could do. They had both hurt each other badly, and she didn't think either of them could undo the damage.
Eames brushed the tears from her face gently. "You can't say it, can you?" he murmured. "That's what you really run from, isn't it? You can't say it, don't want to feel it, even if it's there."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, sniffling and cursing herself for being an emotional wreck. "I can't say what? That we fucked up? That everything is ruined now?"
There was sadness in his eyes and his hand dropped from her face. "Is that what you want, Eleanor? This to be over?" She shivered as a flash of anger crossed his face. "Do you want to leave? Is that why you were fucking Arthur?"
"I don't know why it happened," Eleanor blurted, not sure why she even wanted to try to explain it. "He's handsome and was there and interested and I wanted to, but that's not even why. There have been times like that before and nothing happened. I don't even know why. It just did. And then it just continued, and it never occurred to me to stop it. Or that you'd care."
"You're saying being with him was a mistake?" Eames asked carefully.
She pulled the sheet around her tighter and couldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know anything anymore. I just want to stop hurting."
"What do you want?" he asked her, voice soft and without inflection.
She closed her eyes, feeling the hot tears escape from beneath her lashes. It wasn't affectation; she had never been one of those women that could cry on cue. She remembered the disapproval in her parents at the very thought of overly emotional displays, and Eleanor had learned to cry in perfect silence while young. There were no noisy, hitching gasps of breath, no wracking sobs to draw in attention. She simply stood there, tears falling.
"I don't know," she said finally looking up at him with a miserable expression. "I don't know anything anymore. I don't know."
"You do know," he urged her. "You have always really known, but you've only been too afraid to actually say anything. You want someone else to make the decision for you." Eames brushed the tears from her cheeks, expression unreadable. "It frightens you too much. You don't want to want too much, don't want to be disappointed. Don't want to be a disappointment. But we're only human, Eleanor. We're nothing more than that."
"I don't know, Eames. I don't," she insisted.
"I love you," he said abruptly, letting his hand fall from her face. Eleanor blinked, unable to breathe. She thought she would have fallen if she hadn't already been backed up against the wall. "I love all of you," he continued, as if he couldn't tell how shattered the words made her. "You've been trying to drive me away, haven't you? Easier to drive me away than admit that you feel it, too? Easier to say it all fell apart and is ruined than really try to make it work."
Eleanor didn't have any words for him. It felt true.
"I know it's not enough," Eames said when she remained silent. "People need more than just love to stay together. You need to want to. You need to love me, too."
She bit her lip at his forlorn tone. "I do," she whispered, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. "For all the good it does me, I do."
"Why isn't it any good?" he asked, hands hovering just over her bare shoulders. It was almost as if he was afraid to touch her, as if she would collapse to pieces if he put any kind of pressure on her. "Tell me, Eleanor. Please."
It was the please that did it. She could tell herself that he didn't really mean what he was saying, that this was just another lie. But he was pleading with her to make this right, however they could do it, and that simple word was like a knife flaying her to the bone.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't do this. I'm not..." This wasn't coming out right; she could see the confusion in his eyes, even though he remained so still in front of her. She wanted to put her head against his chest and weep, to feel his arms fold around her and have him tell her she would be all right. But she couldn't have that, didn't deserve that. She had fucked around first. She had ruined everything.
"It's my fault," she found herself saying, her voice fracturing around the edges. "This is all my fault, and everything falls apart. I don't have anything else. I'm fine on the job. I can do what I need to do. I can build and bleed and kill and anything required of me. I can do that. I can't do this. I can't do the rest of it. I don't know how."
"You think I do?" Eames asked incredulously.
"You know people."
Eames' laughter was bitter. "Obviously not. I thought you were happy with me. I never thought Arthur would stab me in the back this way."
Eleanor flinched. "I didn't push him away. It's my fault."
"He knew what you meant to me, even if you didn't," Eames told her. His hands finally came to rest on the sides of her arms. "Even if you started it, he should have stopped it."
"I don't know who started it," Eleanor told him, partly wanting to protect Arthur and partly wanting to throw him to the wolves. God, this would be so much simpler if it was just a fucking job. "It's still my fault." If she repeated that enough, maybe he would understand it and stop pushing. She couldn't do this, couldn't take this. She wanted to run, every instinct in her telling her to push him away and tug on whatever clothes she could find and disappear. She could find someone else to forge documents for her, make her over into someone else. She didn't have to see the pain she was causing him, didn't feel as if she was shredding herself.
"Do you love him?" he asked her.
"I... I don't know."
He blinked in surprise. She had been able to say with absolute certainty that she loved him, but couldn't say if she loved Arthur or not.
Eames moved one of his large hands to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. She was soft and delicate in some ways, brittle and hard edged in others. Eleanor had never been so aware of it before, and some part of her wanted him to snap her neck just so she wouldn't have to live with that realization.
His other hand was lying on her chest, over the sheet. He simply held her there for a moment, staring into her eyes as if he could divine the future from whatever he found there. She shivered, feeling small and insignificant.
"You love me," he said after a moment. "This is your fucked up way of protecting me from it, isn't it?" he asked. She couldn't answer him, didn't know what the words would even be. "Well, Eleanor, I don't accept that."
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
"You don't get to take the coward's way out on this." His voice was firm. "You don't get to run away from this. You don't get to pretend this never happened." Eames paused. "We both have to live with what we've done. We both have to fix this."
"How?"
"I don't know," Eames said softly. "But we have to fix it."
"I don't know if I can," Eleanor whispered. She hesitantly reached out to touch him for the first time since they'd started this conversation, her fingers resting gently on the skin of his chest. "I don't know how."
"Do you want to?" he asked, eyes boring into hers, daring her to look away.
She could never refuse a challenge, even when she should. A part of her wanted to look away, to dissolve into tears and forget she had ever met any of these men. That part screamed at her to run back to the CIA, claim she was kidnapped or mind wiped or something, and pretend that any of this had ever happened.
Another part of her wanted to make this work so badly that she ached with it.
Eleanor nodded, not trusting her voice. "I don't know how," she repeated softly. "But I want to."
He let go of her chest to close his hand over hers, pressing her palm flat against his chest. He dipped his head down so that his forehead touched hers. "Then we'll figure something out. We can make it work if we want to. We'll start over if need be."
"But..."
"I'm James," he said abruptly. "Well, I used to be, once upon a time." Eames' lip curled into a sad, self-deprecating smile at her wide eyed expression. "I don't like who he was, and I don't want to be him anymore. I want absolutely nothing to do with him." His hand tightened around hers. "You know who I am now. This is what I want to be."
Eleanor bit her lip and then leaned forward slightly to kiss his lips. "I'm still figuring out what I want to be," she admitted. "I want to run so badly," she added in a broken whisper. There was a faint tremor in her body that wasn't all from the cold.
"I know," he whispered back. "I was where you are, when I was James."
"What makes it stop?"
"It doesn't," Eames told her, voice infinitely gentle. "But every day it gets a little less, until you barely even notice it anymore. And I'll be here. I'll help you."
Lower lip still caught between her teeth, Eleanor nodded. She still had the urge to run, but maybe if she was honest for a change, it would pass.
The End
Series: #4 in Walking In Truth.
(#1 - An Undivided Heart , #2 - That Can Be Counted, #3 - Only Opportunity)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur, Ariadne/Eames, Ariadne/Eames/OFC
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 NSFW picture prompt in round 19. Also, there are really squidgy emotional manipulations in this. Even I'm not entirely comfortable with how they're acting...
Summary: She hadn't really thought her relationship with Eames was exclusive, so she started something with Arthur, too. Eleanor didn't always think things through.
Can you know anything other than deception? If ever the deception is annihilated, you must not look in that direction or you will turn into a pillar of salt.
- Franz Kafka
The lovely thing about a country in the middle of financial and political upheaval was that most police or intelligence agencies could be bribed to look the other way. The woman that used to be a CIA agent didn't think twice about this reality, or that she was helping to spread greed and corruption within an already unstable environment. Former agent Eleanor Lewis had been maintaining the identity of Lily Wellner to stay off of the CIA's radar for several months now. Most of that time had been spent in Mombasa with Eames, and she had been learning the ins and outs of Yusuf's dream den business as well as the nuances of dream share. She had started sharing Eames' bed weeks after she had joined him on a long con in Europe, and it had been every bit the heady and sensual experience she had thought it would be.
Two months ago, three men had broken into his apartment looking for him. Because Eames had been out of the country on a job, she'd killed them herself. When she hadn't picked up the phone, he had contacted Arthur to check in on her and help her. With the three men already dead, Arthur had helped her get rid of the bodies. Lily had pulled a very willing Arthur into bed that night, and for several nights after.
Eames had been relieved to hear from her, but she hadn't told him about the shift in her relationship with Arthur. He had time left before he was due back in Mombasa, so Arthur started looking into a job that needed both a point man and an architect. Eames thought it was a good ploy for Lily to get out of Mombasa, at least until some of the heat surrounding Eames had died down.
That was only part of the reason.
Arthur had taken Ariadne to a number of restaurants and romantic places in Mombasa while getting his research together. As soon as he got the go ahead, he booked the flight to Athens for the both of them. Ariadne enjoyed visiting the tourist areas in the city, as well as the room they shared. She couldn't get enough of Arthur, rolling him beneath her or urging him to take her hard and fast every chance they got.
That particular day, they were meeting one of Arthur's contacts at the Parthenon. It was a very public place, which should limit the chances that he would do anything stupid.
As it turned out, Arthur's contact wasn't the problem. It was Nikos' competitors, who were hoping to get rid of the extractor and his entire network.
They didn't expect Arthur and Lily to both be armed. Greece had strict gun control laws, and it was a requirement for each handgun to have a specific and unique identifying mark on it. The average Greek citizen needed special authorization to own a pistol or semi-automatic, but it also depended on just how law-abiding those citizens were. In tough economic times, the offer of large bribes meant that Arthur and Lily both had their choice of weapons. Arthur had opted for the familiar Glock 17, and Lily had gone for a HK P7.
Most of the necessary information had been exchanged by the time Nikos' competitors had shown up, and so Nikos got away quickly. Lily laid down cover fire as Arthur picked off the vehicles that the men had come in. One or two were wounded as they tried to run after them; since the Fischer job, Lily had spent more hours on real life ranges and dream ranges to be sure she wouldn't miss a shot. She hadn't been aiming to kill, only to maim, and it worked. They got away in the chaos, slipping down several side streets until they approached the spot where Arthur had parked.
Laughing, Arthur pulled Lily into the rental car and began to drive. There was something exhilarating about getting away with illegalities, something about the heady rush of adrenaline and knowing that they'd made it. She laid her hand on his thigh, her chest heaving as she laughed, still calming down from the rush. Arthur drove to a hole-in-the-wall of an alleyway and put the car in park; as soon as he cut the engine he lunged for her mouth.
Their tongues tangled together and Lily threaded her fingers into his hair to keep him there as she licked into his mouth possessively. Arthur's hands were on her blouse, kneading her breasts through the fabric and padding of her bra. Nimbly, he undid the buttons and then broke the kiss to nuzzle at the exposed skin once he pulled apart the halves of her blouse. "God, yeah," Lily groaned, letting one hand roam down his back. She could feel the flex of the muscles in his back and shoulders, could picture what it would look like without that shirt.
They were bumping into the console as they moved, and finally Arthur pulled back to look at her. "Back seat?"
Lily laughed in delighted anticipation. "Yeah," she said, a husky undertone to her voice. She brushed her fingers across Arthur's kiss-swollen lips, grinning madly at him. "I want you right now."
"Perfect."
It was easier to just get out of the car and slide into the empty backseat. Lily shucked the blouse as soon as she sat down and grinned unrepentantly at Arthur's amused chuckle. It was a little more difficult for him to remove his own shirt, but he managed to do it and only bang his hands into the roof twice. He pushed her onto her back and devoured her mouth again, one hand cupping a breast and pulling at her nipple. It was a touch harder than she ordinarily liked, but his thigh between hers rubbed deliciously at her clit. His other hand held some of his weight off of her, and Lily tried to shove one hand down the back of his pants, sliding around the curve of his ass. With a frustrated curse, Arthur reared up long enough to unbutton and unzip, and Lily pulled it all down as far as she could go. Then she undid her own slacks. They managed to get her out of her clothes, though her panties stuck to her a little and they kept bumping into the front seat or roof of the car.
Lily couldn't help but laugh. This was utterly ridiculous and stupid. They had a perfectly good hotel room with a sprawling king sized bed, soft sheets and climate control. Here they were anyway in a stuffy car, banging into everything they could possibly bang into. She hadn't even done anything like this as a fumbling teenager.
But then Arthur's fingers slid into her, stretching her, thumb hard at her clit and mouth coming down over hers again. She grasped his cock and started to stroke him, getting him harder and ready for her. "I want you inside me," she said into his mouth, "I want you to fuck me so hard I can't remember what name I'm using."
Arthur had some of her hair fisted in his hand, and he tugged sharp enough for it to sting a little as she exposed the smooth column of her neck to him. "You're mine," he growled against her neck, fingers pumping hard inside of her. "Say it. Tell me you're mine."
"God, yes," she moaned, arching into his touch. "I'm yours, Arthur, now, now, make me come."
A slight twist of his wrist gave more pressure to his thrusts, and she bucked her hips against his hand. Her own tightened almost painfully around his cock, but he didn't mind that. That kept him from coming as she clamped down around his fingers, close but not quite at orgasm yet. She mewled in protest as he withdrew his fingers, though her lips parted and her eyes widened with want as she watched him lick his fingers clean. He reached between their bodies to slowly slide into her wet heat, then backed out almost to the tip. Just when Lily would have protested, Arthur slammed forward into her, her head hitting the car door. He grimaced and they had to shift position slightly on the back seat. Ultimately, Arthur had to sprawl across her form, feet digging into the door for leverage. Lily kept her legs drawn up high, nearly to her chest to give him access, and then he thrust hard and fast into her. She grasped his ass with one hand as the other clutched at his back. He grunted with the effort, and she kept her eyes shut to revel in the feel of him. She tuned out the awkward position and the way the fabric of the seat rubbed at her back. This was Arthur and he was inside her, fucking her in a car on a side street where someone might see them, and she didn't care.
Lily came with a sharp cry, legs shaking. She let them slide down Arthur's hips, her legs brushing down the length of his. "Come for me," she gasped, opening her eyes to see his intense gaze watching her. "Arthur..."
A few more strokes had him gritting his teeth and throwing his head back, which was pretty much a sure sign that he was close. She clenched her inner muscles, making him hiss and his cock jerk inside of her.
"I feel like I'm fucking fifteen again," Arthur said with a laugh after collapsing on top of her. "Shit, that was amazing."
"Back to the hotel for more?" Lily offered with a smile.
"Absolutely." His grin was infectious and adorable. Sticky with sweat and come, they hastily dressed and headed to their hotel room. There would soon be a job to do. In the meantime, there was the bed, floor, showers, and counters.
***
When the job was done, Arthur and Lily split up. He planned to head back Stateside for a visit with his family, and Lily didn't feel comfortable with the idea of spending time in the US just yet. She could tolerate defecting from the CIA if she was an expat, but felt odd about being in the country with an alias. She was sure that in time that feeling would go away.
She dialed Eames' cell number, and he picked up right away. Lily could hear him breathing oddly for a moment after she greeted him, and her brows furrowed. "Eames?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Just... Lost it for a mo', is all." There was something in his voice she couldn't place, something that sounded raw and painful.
"Job is done, so I'm leaving Athens."
"Arthur with you?" he asked, that raw edge still in his voice.
"No, he's visiting his parents. I'm coming home, Eames."
"You are." His voice was flat, making Lily frown. "I see."
"Is someone there, Eames? You don't sound right."
"No, I don't suppose I do," he said slowly. He blew out a breath slowly, and she could imagine him with his lips pursed and fingers running through his blond hair. "What time is your flight, then? I'll make sure everything's ready when you get back."
"Ready?" she teased. "Did you throw a party or something while I was away? There isn't much to wreck in that place."
"You'd be surprised."
Lily frowned deeply, though Eames couldn't see her expression. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked quietly, concern thick in her voice.
"Just come back to Mombasa," Eames said tiredly.
She relayed her flight information and she knew he had it committed to memory. She knew better than to ask again if he was all right, though she had the feeling that something was Not Right with him. He wouldn't say anything until he was ready to, preferring to dance around a subject and appear cool and collected. Even after hanging up, she stared at her phone for a while, hoping he was all right. She didn't know what she would do if he wasn't.
***
It wasn't odd that Eames didn't meet Lily at the gate. It was odd that he didn't at least have a car waiting for her, or a cab of some kind. She thought she saw Yang from the casino, who was one of Eames' trusted associates, but couldn't be sure. Lily ultimately caught a cab from the airport to the apartment, tipping fairly but not too generously, and let herself into the apartment. It seemed to be in the same condition that she had left it in, so she doubted that there had been any serious disasters rolling through the area after she'd left for Athens.
Lily thought she heard some faint noises in the bedroom, and dropped her bag down on the couch in the living room. She pushed open the door to the bedroom and couldn't breathe at the sight in front of her.
Eames had his back to the door, kneeling on the bed and fucking a girl with caramel colored skin, dark curly hair, large breasts and long legs wrapped around his waist. She made high keening noises, back arched and her head all but buried in pillows. Eames was fucking into her with careful precision, driving her over the edge without coming himself. Lily knew how that felt, to be on the receiving end of such attention.
Her gut tightened painfully, and she made a choking sound of despair.
He turned at the sound, eyes harder than she had seen them in a long time. His jaw was clenched tight, and she doubted it was because he was trying to keep from coming. "You're back," he said without inflection. "How was your flight?"
Lily somehow staggered forward. It didn't make sense, given that she didn't know how she was even still breathing. They'd never really defined the thing between them, but did admit that they mattered to each other. They'd never discussed being exclusive, and she had watched him flirt with just about everyone in front of her. While she had expected this to happen on some level, seeing it hurt her deeply. Eames looked just as pained, for all that he was buried balls deep in another woman.
He reached out and grasped her arm when she took another few stunned steps. Eames kissed her roughly, tasting of hurt and desire all tangled together. "Welcome home, darling."
"What's this?" she rasped, pulling herself out of his grasp. Lily knew she had to pull herself together, but somehow she couldn't quite manage that.
Eames' smile was a baring of teeth that could very well have been considered a threat. "I got you a treat."
Lily flicked her eyes dismissively across the girl's writhing form. "I don't swing that way."
"There's a lot of things you never did before," Eames taunted. "What's one more thing? You've already fallen, darling." He bared his teeth again. "Don't say I never got you anything."
The girl looked over at her, eyes glassy with lust and drugs. She reached out and grasped Lily's leg, saying something rapidly in another language. It wasn't Spanish but was likely related to it, maybe Italian or Portuguese. Eames grinned in response and answered, something that sounded like an affirmative. Lily wondered if they were teasing her, calling her a coward for not simply stripping off her clothes and joining in.
"Eames..."
"Join us, darling," he crooned, moving his hand from her arm to stroke a breast. "She'll fuck you. It's not like you have to do anything to her."
Almost involuntarily, Lily's eyes were drawn to where their bodies were joined, Eames' sheathed cock sliding in and out of the girl with obscene squelching sounds. The sight of the condom was like a kick in the pants; they never needed to use anything to prevent pregnancy because of her shots, so he had to have planned this out ahead of time. He'd planned to have her walk in and find him fucking another woman, planned to rip her heart out of her chest and pit it on a stake.
Eames' hand slid down her torso and grasped her hip tightly. "Just another fuck, darling." The endearment sounded bitter to Lily's ears. "She'll fuck you hard enough to make you see stars if you let it happen, and you don't even have to say please."
"Why are you doing this?" Lily rasped, voice breaking.
There wasn't triumph in his eyes when he looked at her. "Not pleased with your welcome home present?" he taunted. "And I worked so hard to find you something you might like."
She pulled her hand back to slap him, but he caught her wrist and pulled her closer to kiss her mouth again.
This had to be because she had been sleeping with Arthur. Instead of saying something, he had decided to throw this in her face. Fine, then. Two could play this game, even if she didn't know the rules. It's not like that had ever really stopped her before. Lily kissed him back with the same fervor he was kissing her.
Defiantly, Lily pulled away and shed her clothes. Eames' eyes raked hungrily over her form, and he extended one hand to help her clamber up onto the bed. The girl grinned and said something that was probably meant to be reassuring, reaching out to help Lily position herself over the girl's waiting mouth. There was a flash of anxiety at the pressure of the girl's hands on her hips, guiding her down, but Lily pushed that away as she looked up at Eames. It sounded awful, but the girl didn't matter. She hated the way Eames was making her feel at that moment, small and petty and stupid. Being with Arthur had made her feel as if she could accomplish anything. She hated Eames then, and was willing to push whatever buttons she could in order to hurt him back.
Eames grasped the back of her head and kissed her hard and fast on the mouth as the girl licked an experimental stripe along her parted folds. Lily had to lean forward a bit and grabbed hold of one of the girl's breasts to keep her balance. The girl gave a happy little hum and set to work, licking at Lily clit and folds enthusiastically, stroking her hips. Eames picked up his former rhythm, slamming into the girl even as he kept kissing Lily and stroking her breasts.
She kept her eyes closed and gave herself over to the sensations. Eames was licking into Lily's mouth as he held her in place, not allowing her to rear back or run from this. She had one of her hands on the girl's breast, pinching the nipple and making her moan in pleasureLily rocked her hips a little, then moved her hand to stroke the girl's stomach. She was falling, colliding with tangled emotions she couldn't name. The pleasure they were taking in her body was exquisite, but she felt hollow at the same time.
She'd made a mistake somewhere, but couldn't figure out what she had done.
Lily shuddered as the girl's tongue swirled and stroked her, making her dance on the edge of an orgasm. Eames pinched her nipple lightly as he moved to lick the outer shell of her ear, making her gasp and grind down on the girl's mouth. She dug her fingers into Eames' shoulder, gasping that she was close, she was close, dear God, she wanted him so much.
She didn't hate him at all. She couldn't.
Eames watched her and held her torso upright when she finally let go and came with a cry. He held her as the girl flattened her tongue against Lily's clit, helping her come down from the orgasm. His touch was tender as he helped her lie down on the bed, then he left to clean himself up. Lily turned her face away from the girl as she curled up beside her. Lily felt disconnected as she watched the girl lean down to kiss and suckle a breast. When Eames returned, Lily turned her face up to his. She was fairly certain she had a pained expression there, but couldn't be sure. She felt raw somehow, not herself.
What the hell was she doing? Of course this was happening. She didn't know how not to fuck things up. He hadn't believed her when she had tried to explain. Lily couldn't make any kind of relationship work, she simply couldn't do it. Somehow she was flawed, and she should never have expected this to turn out any different.
God, what a mess she had made of things. Did she destroy everything she loved?
Love.
Lily made a soft choking sound at the thought, but it coincided with Eames dipping his head down to take a breast into his mouth, the one the girl hadn't suckled. The girl was moving faster over Lily's leg, her fingers moving at an almost punishing pace. Lily ran her hands along Eames' back and shoulders, reaching down as far as she could go.
Eames shifted position abruptly, and Lily found herself looking up at him in confusion. He nudged the girl and said something to her. She moved, pouting, but let Eames position himself so that Lily could take him into her mouth. "Would you?" he asked, expression more like a mask.
Even though she knew he would taste like latex and spermicide, she opened her mouth and guided him into her mouth. She ran her hands along his hips and ass, focusing on the feel of his skin rather than the taste. He'd washed off most of it, at least. It took a moment for Lily to realize that the girl had moved off to the side, watching them avidly and fingering herself to come. She flicked her eyes back up toward Eames, whose head was thrown back with his eyes shut. He made a soft sound deep in his throat as she worked him erect in her mouth. "Eleanor," he choked out after a few more minutes, pulling out of her mouth. He moved and pushed inside her slick body. His eyes were locked to hers, and he moved slowly at first, savoring the feel of her.
At some point the girl did more than just watch. She touched and licked at either of them, helping to draw up Lily's legs high around Eames' waist. She moved to press kisses along Lily's thigh before moving to Eames' ass. Lily could only guess that she rimmed Eames, because his eyes closed and he tilted his head back slightly. He made a soft pleased sound as he shifted a little above her, lips curling up into a familiar smile. She remembered the way he had looked when she first fingered him, and this was the same expression.
The girl moved to run her tongue along Lily's flesh, ultimately swirling her tongue around the puckered rear opening. Lily grasped Eames tightly; the added stimulus wasn't good or bad, but she was close to coming anyway just from Eames thrusting into her. "Eames," she whimpered, her inner muscles clenching down around his cock. "I'm close, I'm close, please..."
He snapped his hips faster, and the girl backed away to watch him fuck Lily. She licked her lips, watching Lily thrash about on the bed beneath Eames before arching her back as she came. Her hands tightened and twitched, nails scoring welts into Eames' arms.
Lily lay there beneath him as he continued, teeth grit. She could feel him twitch slightly inside her, so he had to be close. She clenched her muscles tighter, making him hiss and jerk against her body. After the next twitch, she felt stickier and wetter and Eames sagged forward to lean heavily on his arms.
Eames didn't bother to clean up when he pulled out of her and collapsed down next to her on the bed. The girl was on the other side of him, petting the welts gently and murmuring in that language that Lily couldn't understand. She seemed vaguely disappointed but not terribly so, and gave a graceful one-shoulder shrug.
Lily rolled to the side and let them talk. She was hollow and awful and should have known better than to think things would be okay. She should never have fallen for his trap, for all that she had pushed him and hated him for this.
Time passed and Lily must have dozed off. She heard voices in the living room, and she could only assume it was Eames and the girl since they weren't in bed with her anymore. Tugging the soiled sheet from the bed, she gathered it up around her naked body. Eames had a pair of jeans slung low on his hips and the girl was dressed in a light sundress with nothing beneath it. Her hair was tied back, and she looked utterly lovely as she put on her sandals. She was laughing fondly at Eames as if he had just said something silly. Eames replied to whatever she said, and the only word that Lily could pick out of the exchange was "Nina," which she assumed was the girl's name.
Nina left without a backward glance, and Eames locked the door behind her. He paused when he saw Lily standing there in the doorway to the bedroom, sheet loosely wrapped around her. After a moment, he flashed her a winsome smile. "So. Did you enjoy your present?"
"What was that really about?" she asked, mouth dry and knees trembling inside the sheet. She had no idea why she was afraid of Eames as he approached. He wouldn't hurt her. He'd had ample opportunity before, yet never had. But he moved like a predator and she didn't recognize the glint in his eyes. She felt like Ariadne again, caught in his web and being cornered with her own lies and half-truths.
"Is it all a game?" he asked, voice level but with an odd inflection she couldn't name.
"Isn't it with you?" she tossed back, frustration in her tone.
"I told you what this was," he replied stiffly.
"No, you didn't," she snapped, covering her fear and frustration with anger. It was safer, easier to handle. Exes telling her she was a frigid bitch echoed in the back of her head, and she wanted to laugh until she cried. If only they could see her now. Everything she had once been was inverted and inside out. She barely recognized herself.
"I told you that this was important. That you were important."
"What is this about, Eames?" she asked, voice level despite her shaking knees. "Why are you doing this?"
He was in front of her now, and he grasped her arm tightly enough to bruise, his massive palm covering the scar on her left arm. "You fucked him in our bed, Eleanor," he hissed, anger and pain in his eyes. "I trusted you."
"We never said anything," she gasped, refusing to back down from his gaze. It was against every instinct, but she didn't try to wrench out of his grasp, fight back or hurl insults at him. "You said this mattered, whatever this was, and that it was important."
"Yes, I did," he told her gravely, his grip loosening fractionally.
"I thought you were lying to me."
It wasn't any one particular tell that Eames had that told Lily he was stunned. He didn't believe her admission, however truthful it was. "Why would I lie to you?"
"You've always lied to me," Lily murmured softly. No, Eleanor. She had tried to use the different identities as a shell to hide behind, as if she really could be a different person each time she changed passports. "You made me think this could be real, that I could live a life here that mattered. But I don't, not how it really counts."
"That's not true," he hissed, shaking her arm a little in frustration. "You are the only thing that matters."
"No, I don't," Eleanor said, nearly ashamed that her voice had dropped to a whisper. "I have nothing here but a collection of fake names and the hope that I didn't make an awful mistake."
Eames' eyes searched her face, as if he couldn't tell where to start to refute her statement. "You keep harping on names," he observed.
"Arthur's told me his real name and I met his family," Eleanor replied, looking at Eames with something almost like desperation. He was too calm, too collected; she had seen a similar mask on his face when he was beating someone half to death in a dream, and she had never thought she would see it directed at her. Her chest felt tight, and she wanted him to understand how she had felt these past few months, even if she couldn't fully articulate her own fears. "He's never made me feel like this is all a game, like I have to watch what I say or I'll fuck everything up. I'm not broken with him."
Shock was etched clearly on his features. Eames let her go and stepped back, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Her breath caught; this wasn't the reaction she thought she was going to get. "Goddammit, Eleanor," he said, finally turning back to look at her drawn features. "You're not broken. You've never been broken."
"Bullshit," Eleanor snapped, blinking furiously when the image of Eames seemed to waver in front of her. Fucking tears. She was better than that. She could put a bullet between a man's eyes from two hundred feet, slit someone's throat without someone realizing it was her, and could snap bones if she applied just enough pressure on the proper points. Just days before in Athens, she had dropped Nikos' competition without killing them. In this very apartment she had killed the men looking to murder Eames. She could get that right, yet somehow she couldn't get the waterworks to turn off where her personal life was concerned. "I'm only good on the job."
He strode back to her and pinned her to the wall at the sound of her raw voice. "You think he's given you anything?" Eames asked, his own voice just as pained. "Has he told you where he stays if he's not in the US? Does he tell you what his usual identities are? Has he brought you into his circle of contacts and had them work with you?" He watched as she blinked furiously, trying to figure out the answers to his questions. "I've given you everything of value that I have, Eleanor. It doesn't matter what name I was born with because that's not the man I am. You live in my home, and I've introduced you to the only family that matters to me." He gently cupped her face in his hands, as if he had only just realized how delicate she could be. "Family is more than just blood, more than just sharing the same name. I'd give you mine if you wanted it, Eleanor. If that's what you need."
She couldn't stop the tears that overflowed, and it felt like burning tracks down her cheeks. "I didn't think..."
"No, you didn't," he agreed solemnly when her voice trailed off.
They stood there for a long time, simply staring at each other, trying to assess what to do next.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," she whispered brokenly. You hurt me, too, she wanted to say. This evening had wounded her, and she couldn't even begin to guess how badly.
"You can only really hurt the ones you love," Eames murmured slowly, his hands coming to rest on the slope of her bare shoulders. He watched her try to wrap her head around that statement with no effort to conceal his own pain. "Isn't that right?" he asked gently.
Eleanor licked her lips, tasting the salt of her tears. Why didn't the ground ever swallow you up when you fucked up royally this way? Why did silence have to stretch out so painfully, breath caught in your chest as if it could make you explode? She didn't handle things like this well, never learned how. That was part of the allure of the law; it was supposed to be black and white, easy to follow, no room for error.
Since leaving the CIA, she had done nothing but screw up.
She didn't know what she could say or do to make this right, or what he could do. They had both hurt each other badly, and she didn't think either of them could undo the damage.
Eames brushed the tears from her face gently. "You can't say it, can you?" he murmured. "That's what you really run from, isn't it? You can't say it, don't want to feel it, even if it's there."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, sniffling and cursing herself for being an emotional wreck. "I can't say what? That we fucked up? That everything is ruined now?"
There was sadness in his eyes and his hand dropped from her face. "Is that what you want, Eleanor? This to be over?" She shivered as a flash of anger crossed his face. "Do you want to leave? Is that why you were fucking Arthur?"
"I don't know why it happened," Eleanor blurted, not sure why she even wanted to try to explain it. "He's handsome and was there and interested and I wanted to, but that's not even why. There have been times like that before and nothing happened. I don't even know why. It just did. And then it just continued, and it never occurred to me to stop it. Or that you'd care."
"You're saying being with him was a mistake?" Eames asked carefully.
She pulled the sheet around her tighter and couldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know anything anymore. I just want to stop hurting."
"What do you want?" he asked her, voice soft and without inflection.
She closed her eyes, feeling the hot tears escape from beneath her lashes. It wasn't affectation; she had never been one of those women that could cry on cue. She remembered the disapproval in her parents at the very thought of overly emotional displays, and Eleanor had learned to cry in perfect silence while young. There were no noisy, hitching gasps of breath, no wracking sobs to draw in attention. She simply stood there, tears falling.
"I don't know," she said finally looking up at him with a miserable expression. "I don't know anything anymore. I don't know."
"You do know," he urged her. "You have always really known, but you've only been too afraid to actually say anything. You want someone else to make the decision for you." Eames brushed the tears from her cheeks, expression unreadable. "It frightens you too much. You don't want to want too much, don't want to be disappointed. Don't want to be a disappointment. But we're only human, Eleanor. We're nothing more than that."
"I don't know, Eames. I don't," she insisted.
"I love you," he said abruptly, letting his hand fall from her face. Eleanor blinked, unable to breathe. She thought she would have fallen if she hadn't already been backed up against the wall. "I love all of you," he continued, as if he couldn't tell how shattered the words made her. "You've been trying to drive me away, haven't you? Easier to drive me away than admit that you feel it, too? Easier to say it all fell apart and is ruined than really try to make it work."
Eleanor didn't have any words for him. It felt true.
"I know it's not enough," Eames said when she remained silent. "People need more than just love to stay together. You need to want to. You need to love me, too."
She bit her lip at his forlorn tone. "I do," she whispered, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. "For all the good it does me, I do."
"Why isn't it any good?" he asked, hands hovering just over her bare shoulders. It was almost as if he was afraid to touch her, as if she would collapse to pieces if he put any kind of pressure on her. "Tell me, Eleanor. Please."
It was the please that did it. She could tell herself that he didn't really mean what he was saying, that this was just another lie. But he was pleading with her to make this right, however they could do it, and that simple word was like a knife flaying her to the bone.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't do this. I'm not..." This wasn't coming out right; she could see the confusion in his eyes, even though he remained so still in front of her. She wanted to put her head against his chest and weep, to feel his arms fold around her and have him tell her she would be all right. But she couldn't have that, didn't deserve that. She had fucked around first. She had ruined everything.
"It's my fault," she found herself saying, her voice fracturing around the edges. "This is all my fault, and everything falls apart. I don't have anything else. I'm fine on the job. I can do what I need to do. I can build and bleed and kill and anything required of me. I can do that. I can't do this. I can't do the rest of it. I don't know how."
"You think I do?" Eames asked incredulously.
"You know people."
Eames' laughter was bitter. "Obviously not. I thought you were happy with me. I never thought Arthur would stab me in the back this way."
Eleanor flinched. "I didn't push him away. It's my fault."
"He knew what you meant to me, even if you didn't," Eames told her. His hands finally came to rest on the sides of her arms. "Even if you started it, he should have stopped it."
"I don't know who started it," Eleanor told him, partly wanting to protect Arthur and partly wanting to throw him to the wolves. God, this would be so much simpler if it was just a fucking job. "It's still my fault." If she repeated that enough, maybe he would understand it and stop pushing. She couldn't do this, couldn't take this. She wanted to run, every instinct in her telling her to push him away and tug on whatever clothes she could find and disappear. She could find someone else to forge documents for her, make her over into someone else. She didn't have to see the pain she was causing him, didn't feel as if she was shredding herself.
"Do you love him?" he asked her.
"I... I don't know."
He blinked in surprise. She had been able to say with absolute certainty that she loved him, but couldn't say if she loved Arthur or not.
Eames moved one of his large hands to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. She was soft and delicate in some ways, brittle and hard edged in others. Eleanor had never been so aware of it before, and some part of her wanted him to snap her neck just so she wouldn't have to live with that realization.
His other hand was lying on her chest, over the sheet. He simply held her there for a moment, staring into her eyes as if he could divine the future from whatever he found there. She shivered, feeling small and insignificant.
"You love me," he said after a moment. "This is your fucked up way of protecting me from it, isn't it?" he asked. She couldn't answer him, didn't know what the words would even be. "Well, Eleanor, I don't accept that."
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
"You don't get to take the coward's way out on this." His voice was firm. "You don't get to run away from this. You don't get to pretend this never happened." Eames paused. "We both have to live with what we've done. We both have to fix this."
"How?"
"I don't know," Eames said softly. "But we have to fix it."
"I don't know if I can," Eleanor whispered. She hesitantly reached out to touch him for the first time since they'd started this conversation, her fingers resting gently on the skin of his chest. "I don't know how."
"Do you want to?" he asked, eyes boring into hers, daring her to look away.
She could never refuse a challenge, even when she should. A part of her wanted to look away, to dissolve into tears and forget she had ever met any of these men. That part screamed at her to run back to the CIA, claim she was kidnapped or mind wiped or something, and pretend that any of this had ever happened.
Another part of her wanted to make this work so badly that she ached with it.
Eleanor nodded, not trusting her voice. "I don't know how," she repeated softly. "But I want to."
He let go of her chest to close his hand over hers, pressing her palm flat against his chest. He dipped his head down so that his forehead touched hers. "Then we'll figure something out. We can make it work if we want to. We'll start over if need be."
"But..."
"I'm James," he said abruptly. "Well, I used to be, once upon a time." Eames' lip curled into a sad, self-deprecating smile at her wide eyed expression. "I don't like who he was, and I don't want to be him anymore. I want absolutely nothing to do with him." His hand tightened around hers. "You know who I am now. This is what I want to be."
Eleanor bit her lip and then leaned forward slightly to kiss his lips. "I'm still figuring out what I want to be," she admitted. "I want to run so badly," she added in a broken whisper. There was a faint tremor in her body that wasn't all from the cold.
"I know," he whispered back. "I was where you are, when I was James."
"What makes it stop?"
"It doesn't," Eames told her, voice infinitely gentle. "But every day it gets a little less, until you barely even notice it anymore. And I'll be here. I'll help you."
Lower lip still caught between her teeth, Eleanor nodded. She still had the urge to run, but maybe if she was honest for a change, it would pass.
The End