#4 - Mistletoe, for alostcorner
Title: Mistletoe / An Experiment (Bonus short)
Recipient: alostcorner
Author: nugacity
Rating: G / NC-17
Pairing: Yusuf / Eames
Word count: 772 / 304
Warnings: Second contains explicit sexual content and gen!swap
A/N: Merry Christmas!
Mistletoe
Ariadne’s level was a festive feast, halls decked and carolers singing traditional Christmas songs softly in the corner as children run around, laughing and dancing along. Yusuf, who found the whole thing slightly bemusing having never celebrated the holiday himself, had a sneaking suspicion that it was her way of making a point to Arthur, who earlier that week had announced that their would be no winter break. Most of the team had no problem with it; even if he did celebrate the holiday, Yusuf never would have returned home to his family. Eames’ used the whole Yule period simply as a time to get drunk and Arthur - well, Yusuf wasn’t entirely sure about Arthur, but he had a feeling he wasn’t a festive fanatic.
Ariadne had a multitude of relatives and close friends waiting back at home, all of which had been utterly heartbroken to learn she was not going back to Canada for the holidays.
“My sister,” She’d told Arthur fiercely, just the day before, “has just had her first child. She’s named her after me. She wants me to be godmother.”
“Get her to send a photo.” Arthur had replied, his tone bored, as he continued to flick through her designs, “And this passageway needs extending.”
Yes, Ariadne was filled with a lot of resentment towards their new team leader now Cobb was off being domestic. But they were extracting information from a heavily guarded government official and the only real time they had to get to her would be Christmas Eve, after mass, and they needed all four of them in if they were going to pull it off.
Ariadne knew that. That was why she was still with them. But this level was a definite up yours to the point man.
Which didn’t explain why she’d left Yusuf alone with Eames to try it out, whilst she and Arthur stayed up above monitoring them. All she’d done was create a perfect environment for Eames to cause chaos in.
Merry Christmas to you too, Ari Yusuf thought moodily, ducking yet another of Eames’ snowball. He was uncomfortable enough around Eames as it was without him throwing balls of imagery snow at him.
Yusuf didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Eames’ presence that made him distinctly uncomfortable, as though he was under severe scrutiny that made him so nervous his pulse raced and he had difficulty concentrating. And his smile…when Eames smiled at him, his vision sometimes blurred with the sheer feeling rising up inside him. An overwhelming sensation impossible to define.
He felt it now, watching the forger chase projections of winter clad children through the snow, laughing his head off. He turned away, thinking carefully of other things, like hydrochloric acid and the dust gathering on his vials back in Mombassa, in the dream lab he had fled to come here, following Eames in to the world of extraction blindly. He was lost in his own thoughts, which had drifted off somewhere in to a world where he had followed Eames somewhere entirely different when he realised the man in question was by his side, closer than usual. He was also grinning rather mischievously.
“Oh Yusuf,” He practically purred, and he suddenly remembered their first meeting, his paisley shirt and a run down bar in a dodgy backstreet, drinking themselves to the floor - “You’ve stood yourself right under the mistletoe.”
He has is at a loss, and all he can see are Eames’ soft brown eyes with their evil glint and he remembers his first kiss, long ago, in a different country in a different reality - he was fourteen years old and his feet were bare, her sweet round face and big black eyes, her lips smooth and cold against his. She had pressed her scarf in to his hand, squeezed his fingers and fled through the market, leaving him alone once more, a poor boy with a sick mother who for a moment was the richest man in Delhi.
She was his first love, and now Eames is kissing him, and his lips are chapped and cheeks are rough and it is cool once more, like water filling his brain with oxygen and he drowns, opening his mouth to let Eames pour in and it is reincarnation, a new life.
They break apart, both breathing heavily, and Eames’ are eyes are wide with surprise. This had been a child’s game to him, a mindless flirtation. Yusuf never plays; only experiments.
He grins, running his hand across the stubble on Eames’ chin.
“Merry Christmas, Mr Eames.” He murmurs, and leans in once more.
An Experiment (Bonus Smut)
Eames mouth is on his left breast, his tongue swirling darkening the golden brown of his skin and Yusuf gasps, unused to the sensation. Eames moves away, licking and nipping his way back up his lover’s collar bone, breathing in the smell of sweat and the faint perfume he has concocted.
“This is what it is like to be fucked like a woman.” He whispers, cock brushing against Yusuf’s thigh so that he whimpers, bucking against his constraints, “You’re learning fast, darling.” Eames burrows his hands in Yusuf’s long black locks as he pushes himself slowly, hissing as Yusuf tightens around him, feeling him enter him as though for the first time once more.
He is impatient, desperate and he pulls once more at his restraints until Eames gets the idea and abruptly pushes himself in to the hilt, grunting. Yusuf gives out another whimper, hips moving desperately to get more.
“Oh, you’ve made yourself a beautiful cunt.” Eames groans, thrusting forward, “Good girl, Jesus.” Yusuf’s eyes roll backwards as Eames moves faster, harder. It is all too much, and he is holding on to his forgery, breasts heavy as he moves and hips of a woman, as Eames circles his clit with his thumb and he is coming undone -
He wakes panting in the warehouse, his wrists aching and his trousers uncomfortably sticky. Arthur looks up from his paperwork, frowning.
“You’re out early, did Eames get round to showing you everything?” The question takes a moment to register and he hesitates on the best way to answer.
“More or less.” He says weakly, Eames wakes next to him, eyes dilated, “But we might have to try again.”
“Definitely.” Eames growls suddenly, his voice surprisingly rough, “With heavier a sedative.”
“We’ll need to experiment.” Yusuf agrees, and matches Eames’ grin with his own.
Recipient: alostcorner
Author: nugacity
Rating: G / NC-17
Pairing: Yusuf / Eames
Word count: 772 / 304
Warnings: Second contains explicit sexual content and gen!swap
A/N: Merry Christmas!
Mistletoe
Ariadne’s level was a festive feast, halls decked and carolers singing traditional Christmas songs softly in the corner as children run around, laughing and dancing along. Yusuf, who found the whole thing slightly bemusing having never celebrated the holiday himself, had a sneaking suspicion that it was her way of making a point to Arthur, who earlier that week had announced that their would be no winter break. Most of the team had no problem with it; even if he did celebrate the holiday, Yusuf never would have returned home to his family. Eames’ used the whole Yule period simply as a time to get drunk and Arthur - well, Yusuf wasn’t entirely sure about Arthur, but he had a feeling he wasn’t a festive fanatic.
Ariadne had a multitude of relatives and close friends waiting back at home, all of which had been utterly heartbroken to learn she was not going back to Canada for the holidays.
“My sister,” She’d told Arthur fiercely, just the day before, “has just had her first child. She’s named her after me. She wants me to be godmother.”
“Get her to send a photo.” Arthur had replied, his tone bored, as he continued to flick through her designs, “And this passageway needs extending.”
Yes, Ariadne was filled with a lot of resentment towards their new team leader now Cobb was off being domestic. But they were extracting information from a heavily guarded government official and the only real time they had to get to her would be Christmas Eve, after mass, and they needed all four of them in if they were going to pull it off.
Ariadne knew that. That was why she was still with them. But this level was a definite up yours to the point man.
Which didn’t explain why she’d left Yusuf alone with Eames to try it out, whilst she and Arthur stayed up above monitoring them. All she’d done was create a perfect environment for Eames to cause chaos in.
Merry Christmas to you too, Ari Yusuf thought moodily, ducking yet another of Eames’ snowball. He was uncomfortable enough around Eames as it was without him throwing balls of imagery snow at him.
Yusuf didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Eames’ presence that made him distinctly uncomfortable, as though he was under severe scrutiny that made him so nervous his pulse raced and he had difficulty concentrating. And his smile…when Eames smiled at him, his vision sometimes blurred with the sheer feeling rising up inside him. An overwhelming sensation impossible to define.
He felt it now, watching the forger chase projections of winter clad children through the snow, laughing his head off. He turned away, thinking carefully of other things, like hydrochloric acid and the dust gathering on his vials back in Mombassa, in the dream lab he had fled to come here, following Eames in to the world of extraction blindly. He was lost in his own thoughts, which had drifted off somewhere in to a world where he had followed Eames somewhere entirely different when he realised the man in question was by his side, closer than usual. He was also grinning rather mischievously.
“Oh Yusuf,” He practically purred, and he suddenly remembered their first meeting, his paisley shirt and a run down bar in a dodgy backstreet, drinking themselves to the floor - “You’ve stood yourself right under the mistletoe.”
He has is at a loss, and all he can see are Eames’ soft brown eyes with their evil glint and he remembers his first kiss, long ago, in a different country in a different reality - he was fourteen years old and his feet were bare, her sweet round face and big black eyes, her lips smooth and cold against his. She had pressed her scarf in to his hand, squeezed his fingers and fled through the market, leaving him alone once more, a poor boy with a sick mother who for a moment was the richest man in Delhi.
She was his first love, and now Eames is kissing him, and his lips are chapped and cheeks are rough and it is cool once more, like water filling his brain with oxygen and he drowns, opening his mouth to let Eames pour in and it is reincarnation, a new life.
They break apart, both breathing heavily, and Eames’ are eyes are wide with surprise. This had been a child’s game to him, a mindless flirtation. Yusuf never plays; only experiments.
He grins, running his hand across the stubble on Eames’ chin.
“Merry Christmas, Mr Eames.” He murmurs, and leans in once more.
An Experiment (Bonus Smut)
Eames mouth is on his left breast, his tongue swirling darkening the golden brown of his skin and Yusuf gasps, unused to the sensation. Eames moves away, licking and nipping his way back up his lover’s collar bone, breathing in the smell of sweat and the faint perfume he has concocted.
“This is what it is like to be fucked like a woman.” He whispers, cock brushing against Yusuf’s thigh so that he whimpers, bucking against his constraints, “You’re learning fast, darling.” Eames burrows his hands in Yusuf’s long black locks as he pushes himself slowly, hissing as Yusuf tightens around him, feeling him enter him as though for the first time once more.
He is impatient, desperate and he pulls once more at his restraints until Eames gets the idea and abruptly pushes himself in to the hilt, grunting. Yusuf gives out another whimper, hips moving desperately to get more.
“Oh, you’ve made yourself a beautiful cunt.” Eames groans, thrusting forward, “Good girl, Jesus.” Yusuf’s eyes roll backwards as Eames moves faster, harder. It is all too much, and he is holding on to his forgery, breasts heavy as he moves and hips of a woman, as Eames circles his clit with his thumb and he is coming undone -
He wakes panting in the warehouse, his wrists aching and his trousers uncomfortably sticky. Arthur looks up from his paperwork, frowning.
“You’re out early, did Eames get round to showing you everything?” The question takes a moment to register and he hesitates on the best way to answer.
“More or less.” He says weakly, Eames wakes next to him, eyes dilated, “But we might have to try again.”
“Definitely.” Eames growls suddenly, his voice surprisingly rough, “With heavier a sedative.”
“We’ll need to experiment.” Yusuf agrees, and matches Eames’ grin with his own.