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the experiment 1/3 (content advisory: graphic descriptions of rape fantasies, negotiated D/s)
anonymous
August 31 2010, 14:14:38 UTC
Arthur doesn't usually choose those fantasies. Hardly ever. Waking, he can normally get himself off with the aid of a catalogue of ordinary images, plus the quick utilitarian strokes of his own hand. Plain and simple. All he has to do is take himself in hand and remember stubble and soft lips, breasts and cunt and hard hands and a prick in his mouth; that's all he needs to make him shudder and come, and then he can wash his hands and drift into sleep on the tide of endorphins. He doesn't need a narrative just to get off. It's just biology
( ... )
the experiment 2/3 (content advisory: graphic descriptions of rape fantasies, negotiated D/s)
anonymous
September 12 2010, 20:06:19 UTC
Weeks pass. The job's going badly: the mark gives up nothing at the first attempt and the second and the third and their employer is starting to get tetchy. Arthur uses his insomnia, the way he always has, but it's starting to take a toll on him. By the time they're finally done, he's more exhausted than he's ever been before. Ariadne keeps shooting worried looks at him. Eames doesn't, but when he gets to his hotel room that night, Eames is there. Waiting
( ... )
the experiment 3/4 (content advisory: graphic descriptions of rape fantasies, negotiated D/s)
anonymous
December 12 2010, 21:44:12 UTC
"Marks," Eames says one day, over breakfast, buttering his toast.
Arthur gives him a blank look. He hasn't had his coffee yet and Eames delights in being cryptic at this hour just to get Arthur to give him what he, unbelievably offensively, calls that kitten-eyed glare.
"What," he says and Eames takes a huge bite of his toast and grins disgustingly at him.
"Marks," he says again, incomprehensibly, while Arthur's watching him chew and swallow with appalled fascination. He swallows, licks the last few crumbs from his bottom lip. "Do you want me to leave marks?"
Oh. All the blood leaves his head so fast that he finds himself dizzy - he actually has to put his hand on the table, to brace himself, and there's no humor left in the way Eames is looking at him now, hot and predatory.
"I'll take that look on your face as a yes, then," he murmurs, leaning back in his chair and studying Arthur with blatant hunger. "Yes?"
"Yes," Arthur whispers, small and pathetic, and then he makes himself snap out of it because Eames is looking at him
( ... )
Re: the experiment 3/4 (content advisory: graphic descriptions of rape fantasies, negotiated D/s)pingridDecember 12 2010, 22:22:51 UTC
Oh, this is SO HOT! I really like their dynamic, their complete ease with each other combined with this one thread of excited tension. How I would love to see Eames suit actions to words, in great and lascivious detail! :D
the experiment 4a/4 (content advisory: graphic descriptions of rape fantasies, negotiated D/s)
anonymous
December 13 2010, 00:01:32 UTC
(I'M SORRY, OP, THEY JUST NEVER STOP TALKING /o\)
Life goes on. Eames goes to Sao Paulo for three weeks and Arthur catches himself fucking moping around the New York apartment on the third day that Eames is gone and accepts a month-long job in Melbourne in sheer self-defence. Through text messages and late-night phone calls and Skype, they agree (1) that Arthur is okay with being surprised (would prefer to be surprised); (2) that blindfolds are not okay, Arthur hates not being able to see; (3) that hair-pulling is, um, encouraged; (5) that Arthur is yeah, ready, totally ready, please, oh, and (6) that the deal is off and that Eames is never going to get to touch Arthur again, ever, if he doesn't stop mimicking that one time Arthur had stuttered over his yes like a kid whose voice has just broken. And still, after all that, when Arthur comes home to find his apartment empty and maybe sulks a bit on the couch before going to bed, he nearly shouts out loud when a hard hand grabs him by the hair the second that he steps into the bedroom
( ... )
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very hot XD
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LOLZ! captcha spells as badly as stereotype!eames does: "half-nude supectle"
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p.s. do you mind if @inceptionwips follows this on twitter??
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Arthur gives him a blank look. He hasn't had his coffee yet and Eames delights in being cryptic at this hour just to get Arthur to give him what he, unbelievably offensively, calls that kitten-eyed glare.
"What," he says and Eames takes a huge bite of his toast and grins disgustingly at him.
"Marks," he says again, incomprehensibly, while Arthur's watching him chew and swallow with appalled fascination. He swallows, licks the last few crumbs from his bottom lip. "Do you want me to leave marks?"
Oh. All the blood leaves his head so fast that he finds himself dizzy - he actually has to put his hand on the table, to brace himself, and there's no humor left in the way Eames is looking at him now, hot and predatory.
"I'll take that look on your face as a yes, then," he murmurs, leaning back in his chair and studying Arthur with blatant hunger. "Yes?"
"Yes," Arthur whispers, small and pathetic, and then he makes himself snap out of it because Eames is looking at him ( ... )
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Life goes on. Eames goes to Sao Paulo for three weeks and Arthur catches himself fucking moping around the New York apartment on the third day that Eames is gone and accepts a month-long job in Melbourne in sheer self-defence. Through text messages and late-night phone calls and Skype, they agree (1) that Arthur is okay with being surprised (would prefer to be surprised); (2) that blindfolds are not okay, Arthur hates not being able to see; (3) that hair-pulling is, um, encouraged; (5) that Arthur is yeah, ready, totally ready, please, oh, and (6) that the deal is off and that Eames is never going to get to touch Arthur again, ever, if he doesn't stop mimicking that one time Arthur had stuttered over his yes like a kid whose voice has just broken. And still, after all that, when Arthur comes home to find his apartment empty and maybe sulks a bit on the couch before going to bed, he nearly shouts out loud when a hard hand grabs him by the hair the second that he steps into the bedroom ( ... )
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